


The Old Hen She Cackled

by TrueTattoo



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: (Eskel doesn't abuse kids), Body Horror, Child Abuse, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Disease, Dubious Consent, Eskel Whump (The Witcher), Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Feral Behavior, Feral Eskel, Horror, Improper Use of Axii (The Witcher), Missing Children, Monsters, Murder Mystery, Psychological Horror, Scars, Vaginal Sex, Violence, missing people, untagged items to keep plot twist secret I am sorry.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 34,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29246550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueTattoo/pseuds/TrueTattoo
Summary: Someone on Tumbler wanted a fic where Eskel is not the good boy he normally is. This is that fic.---------He remembered seeing Vesemir’s eyes light up with joy as Lambert threw himself through the oaken doors of the keep. He remembered the laughs and hugs when Geralt would return for the year. He coveted the looks they got from the last surviving master of the Wolf keep, but what he got instead was a small smile, a nod, and occasionally, a pat on the back or a simple embrace. It was because he was, Eskel. Good ol’ steady Eskel, who returned every year without fail.It had been like that this year, even with the past fall’s events where his face was marred by his child surprise. Even then, Vesemir said it had been the right choice to try and let the child live out her life on her terms. After all, what was the point in bringing a child to the keep when they wouldn’t have anything to do with her?He still touted that line and it still made Eskel angry. Vesemir had seen his marring not as a failure, but as a freak accident. Had it been anyone else, Vesemir would have had them standing on a pike for three days, contemplating their failures. Even Geralt and Lambert had said he wasn’t at fault.
Comments: 23
Kudos: 31





	1. The contract

**Author's Note:**

> It's tagged dead dove for a reason. Chapter 3 is going to be rough... but enjoy the ride.

_“You have claimed your amulet. You are sturdy, smart, and you listen to instruction well. Your training has been completed and you shall go on the path as one of the best witchers that has come out of Kaer Morhen in an age. You will do us proud, young wolf, you were the natural leader of your cohort. And now as you travel the path for your first year alone, I know that you - above all others - will aide in untarnishing our name. It is with you that the hope for our future resides. You, Eskel, are the perfect witcher, follow the guidance we have given you and your path shall be clear and easy, where others will struggle. Farewell young one, we shall see you in the winter.”_

The memory played over in his head as he led Daisy, his dapple mare, through the wood which arched over the road. He had been on the path for a long time now. He outlived many others, first from the first years on the path itself, second from the pogrom, and third from the long test of time which seemed to weigh on all their backs. He remembered seeing Vesemir’s eyes light up with joy as Lambert threw himself through the oaken doors of the keep. He remembered the laughs and hugs when Geralt would return for the year. He coveted the looks they got from the last surviving master of the Wolf keep, but what he got instead was a small smile, a nod, and occasionally, a pat on the back or a simple embrace. It was because he was, Eskel. Good ol’ steady Eskel, who returned every year without fail.

It had been like that this year, even with the past fall’s events where his face was marred by his child surprise. Even then, Vesemir said it had been the right choice to try and let the child live out her life on her terms. After all, what was the point in bringing a child to the keep when they wouldn’t have anything to do with her?

He still touted that line and it still made Eskel angry. Vesemir had seen his marring not as a failure, but as a freak accident. Had it been anyone else, Vesemir would have had them standing on a pike for three days, contemplating their failures. Even Geralt and Lambert had said he wasn’t at fault. Ol’ steady Eskel didn’t make big mistakes. He didn’t fail. He was and still is the Wolf school’s shining star. Lambert is the wild child, but for some reason he endears himself to just about every village he helps. Geralt was the sullen and withdrawn one, but even he picked up a human friend who was following him around the continent and being a nuisance. But Eskel? He hadn’t had luck before and now, with his face still freshly marred and his scars stinging and tingling where there was no feeling, he had even less.

Twice he had tried to take contracts, but now the peasantry had decided that the mark he carried of his failures, was a mark of a poor witcher and they were denied to him and he was chased out of town. He had taken three other contracts and all of them yielded far lower coin than Eskel had been used to, but desperation made him take what he could.

Desperation is what made him pick this contract up off the board of some no name town in Mag Deira.

“I wouldn’t take that contract if I was you, witcher.” An old woman, hardy looking, but riddled with gout was plucking feathers from a freshly slaughtered goose. She didn’t even look up from her work. “Key’s Crossroads, is not a town you want to set foot in.”

He had asked her why, of course, and he got the usual town gossip drivel of murders and disappearances.

“There was another of your ilk - amulet of a bear.” The woman looked up to him, the goose’s blood smeared across her cheek. “He took the contract from that very board last fall, haven’t heard from him since, and the town crier returned here not a month later, before the onset of winter, to place the contract back up again.”

It wouldn’t be the first witcher to deny a contract and continue along his path. It also wouldn’t be the first witcher to be felled by a monster. The reward was sizeable, but not ostentatious, and well within the realms of probability for this backwater place in the center of the continent.

“Thank you for your concern.” The woman looked up at him then, her blue eyes filled with worry, but she said nothing more, turning back to her task.

Eskel climbed onto Daisy's back and she snorted before turning down the path out of town and into the woods. A simple sign directed him to the location he needed to be.

He kept his eyes open for signs of the usual fare - leshy, spriggans, dryads, ghouls, even nekkers. But the woods were teeming with life and game, the birdsong nearly deafening in the summer heat. Peace was not a good bedfellow when someone is attempting to forget. He sees the dagger, dull and ill kept, slashing at his face. He sees red and rubs at the scars on his cheek which pain him in the dappled sunlight shining through the leaves of the trees.

The first sign of human life was a hut placed off the road, but with a well-worn path. An elderly man sat on a wooden bench as two children played at his feet with dolls made from corn husks.

“ ‘lo good man,” He smiled. “Hail and where may you be traveling?”

Eskel could hear someone at the back of the house sanding something and it stopped as Eskel dismounted from his horse. He could hear footsteps rounding the house.

“I am a witcher, making my way to Key’s Crossroads, how far is it from here?” Eskel asked, watching as another man, tall and healthy, came around the corner, his beard covered in wood trimmings. The children, seeing the newcomer, stopped playing and drew close to their grandfather.

“You here to hunt the Nuckelavee?” The larger man asked, his voice solid and stern.

“The contract didn’t go into specifics, just mentioned a man-eater.”

The big man didn’t move an inch as he looked to Eskel, his eyes narrowing.

“Ten miles, down this very path, and you shall reach the town.” He walked to the bench and spoke quietly to one of the children, who nodded swiftly and scampered into the house. “Be wary witcher, the last that passed through here did not return and last I heard, he disappeared on his own hunt. The mid-summer festival is in a few days and we don’t want any more bloodshed if we can help it.”

Eskel nodded and patted his horse, who nudged him softly.

“Aye, I will keep that in mind.” Eskel stated, as the child ran from the house carrying a small cloth wrapped package.

Eskel raised a brow as the child scrambled to him and then stopped, startled by his scars and eyes.

“Give it to him, Andre.”

The child, startled into action by his father, quickly handed Eskel the package, which Eskel took. As the child was scrambling back to his father, the grandfather stood up and walked to Eskel.

“For your troubles, sir witcher.” He stated, not balking at Eskel’s appearance in the least. “And a favor, for the food. My wife and my daughter have gone into town for the day, and I forgot to ask them to get something for me. I was about to head there myself, but you coming by has saved me a trip! Please give that to her. Her name is Tessa, I am Lance, and the big man here is Paul.”

Eskel pocketed the note and nodded.

“It would be my pleasure.” Eskel stated, turning around and re-mounting his horse. “Thank you.”

The men nodded and one of the children laughed and waved, while the other looked to Eskel, his eyes somewhat sad. When his brother nudged him, he finally raised his hand, and Eskel did the same. The boy was odd, but he seemed nice enough. Eskel wondered why he only acted when his brother prodded him to do so, but it was soon out of his mind as he continued along the tree lined path.

When he opened the cloth, about a mile down the road and well out of sight from the small homestead, he found several items wrapped in wax paper. Frowning, he gave them a sniff, it was food! No obvious signs of poison. He opened the first and his mouth salivated. A honey cake with walnuts. Carefully wrapping it back up, he opened the other packages. One had a dried summer sausage, which looked to be freshly cut, and the other had a mild smelling cheese in it. Calculating the cost of these items at a market, he would have to pay as much as a drowner head for the cake alone. The sausage would have cost him a few coppers, and the cheese a few more. He smiled at his good fortune and quickly began to tear into the sausage.

In a word, it was delicious. It was made from something he couldn’t put his finger on. He tasted venison, but there was another, deeper flavor which was both familiar and gamey in the background of the meat. Probably wild boar or peccary.

Trail rations be damned, if every peasant that sent him on a menial task fed him this well, he would happily stop killing monsters and take up a new job as a courier.

His dour mood lightened considerably as he led his horse down the sun dappled path, licking grease from his fingers and enjoying every small bite of his impromptu meal.

Ten miles passed quickly as the sun began to start its true descent to the horizon. This far south, the sun didn’t stay up near as long as it did in the northern countries and Eskel was somewhat thankful for it. After a time, a small breeze picked up. The wind was at his back, so it did little to help him know when he approached the town, but he had to be getting close. The first sign of life came from a man walking with a burro and a cart down the road. It was laden with skins and meat, most of them fresh. A hunter then. After he passed the cart, he began to see a break in the trees and he paused his horse when he broke through them. The sun cast the humble houses and buildings in stark relief, and people began to look to where he was stopped. He had fully expected a run-down town with ramshackle houses, but the houses here were well kept. They were all freshly painted with flowers adorning their walls. The smell of walnut and oak filled his nose, as well as the signs of life all human towns had. There were a few notable exceptions, houses that looked ramshackled and ill-kept. But they had lumber waiting in the yard and thatching drying in sheds nearby. 

Eyes began to follow him, as his horse nickered lowly, and they began to walk through the town. Eskel knew he would have to find whoever left the contract on the posting in the previous town. Logically, he needed to find a place where people gathered. A well, a shop, or a tavern would have to do. Several folk got out of the way and stared at him, the usual whispers following in his wake.

“Scars…”

“His eyes!”

“He is a sellsword… damn it all…”

“You fool, that’s a witcher.”

“Hail and well met stranger.” A teenaged boy had come out to him, seemingly ignoring the whispers the other townsfolk uttered. “I presume you are looking for the alderman?”

“I am looking for a woman named Tessa first.” The boy tilted his head and nodded, flashing a winning if somewhat awkward smile.

“Ah! Her and her daughter are staying at the Swan’s Song in the center of town.” The boy chirped, his voice cracking. “Allow me to lead you there.”

“What are you doing Andrew?!” A stout woman, who had the curves of a mother and the scowl of the devil painted across her face, came storming out of a house with a brightly painted facade. “You are not leaving this garden until your chores are complete! Guest or not!”

“Ma…”

The woman, quick as a flash, had her shoe off her foot and smacked the boy on the shoulder. The boy cringed away from her as she smacked him again.

“You fool boy, what woman do you hope to attract by being lazy and shirking your duties!” She hissed and smacked him again as he tried to duck away from her wrath. The hits were hardly what Eskel would consider hard and the boy had no marks on his skin, other than the slight red where the shoe slapped him on his arm, and the boy was grinning through it and laughing. A pillock then.

“Alright Mama! I get it! Off to the coop!”

The woman glared at him, as the boy, his lopsided grin turning cheeky, flitted around to the back side of the house, laughing all the while. Once he had disappeared and Eskel could hear the sound of angry chickens cackling as he disturbed their roost, the woman straightened her dress, slipped her shoe back on her foot, and settled the scarf around her hair. It was only after she was settled, that she looked at Eskel, her face transforming from a demon into a world worn woman.

“A witcher, I thought for sure the last one would be our last!” She said, honestly surprised.

“Saw the contract.” Eskel frowned. “But first, I must find Tess.”

“Ah yes, I heard that bit, follow me.” She said, eyeing Eskel’s saddle where he had the waxed cloth draped neatly. “Let me guess, old Lance has forgotten yet another item to make them fetch? The old coot, he is losing his mind you know? He came here already once earlier today and I am supposing Paul was fixing their smoke shed.”

Eskel nodded softly.

“That man would be lost without his son-in-law, I assure you of that!” The woman huffed, leading Eskel through the small town. “They live so far out and Aubrey, bless her soul, visits Tess once a month to bring her mother to town and get away from the old coot for a few days.”

“A very nice girl to do that.” Eskel nodded softly.

“Aye, indeed.” The woman nodded curtly.

“You don’t seem too off put by the disappearances.” Eskel looked down at the woman who rolled her eyes and looked up to him.

“Been happening for a few years now, maybe more than a few.” The woman scoffed, her cheeks turning rosy in her frustration. “How is one to act? Am I supposed to cower in fright for years at a time? Stop living my life? I have children to raise and tend. I have chickens and I have a buy-in at a sheep farm down the road so I can have wool to spin and make scarves to sell in the winter. No, Witcher, those you normally seek have problems that are dire and new, so you are used to the cowering ninnies. We have lived with this for years, so cowering is pointless.”

Eskel couldn’t argue with that logic. Most towns he happened upon that had long term disappearance problems were either dead, dying, or reproducing faster than they were losing. Judging from the state of the people, well-fed, sun kissed, and dirt beneath their nails, Eskel was witnessing the latter.

“How does the village sustain itself?” Eskel asked, looking around at the market stalls, which were sitting empty, minus a few that had villagers at them, buying last minute vegetables and fruits before the sun went down completely.

“Up till last fall we had a logging company who came in, agreed to employ our men, and handed the alderman a tidy profit.” She waved her hand over to what looked like a farmer’s field. “Three years ago, that was all trees. Before the logging company came, we made our living off peat in the swamp to the west and the usual brick-a-brack we could pawn off at some of the larger cities citing quaint country craftsmanship. But when the killings began again and a few of the loggers went missing, the superstitious dolts left. And our men came home.”

“So, you farm?”

“We farm, we knit, we have laying hens, and good milking cows.” She frowned. “It’s not as if we are a failing town, witcher, we just have a problem with a monster and we need it dealt with.”

“You are chatty.”

“And you are rough looking.” She eyed him and Eskel put a hand to his face. “Never mind that, don’t care how you got ‘em or why, the fact that you are standing here means you are a strong one and you didn’t get felled by it, so that at least is something.”

“What do you know of the monster?” Eskel asked.

“Old man Lance and his son-in-law thinks it’s a Nuckelavee, says Norb saw it, said it was some conglomeration of a man and horse.” She spat on the ground. “Eli, who is our local poet and troublemaker, says it’s a peryton or a kelpie. Some of ‘em think drowners and that fool Devon thinks it’s an incubus.”

“That is… a lot of opinions.” Eskel frowned and saw the inn as they rounded a corner.

“Opinions, witcher, are like arseholes, everyone has one, but they are full of shit.” She spit again, frowning. “Well, there it is, the Swan’s Song. If you can’t find ‘em there now, they will be back. They tend to visit the Murphy house when they come, gambling most like.”

Eskel chuckled, but the woman frowned up at him.

“Careful lad, for once I want to see this business settled.” She said and sounded strangely earnest. “The last one to come through was so bitter and angry. You are sweet and tender, I can see it in your eyes. Don’t let these fools confuse you. The alderman knows far more than any of these cocks and hens. Be wary of Ashleigh, the inn’s current bartender, she seems sweet, but she’ll bite you when you least expect it.”

“I shall do my upmost to keep my attentions to my job.” Eskel nodded to her.

“You may call me Lady Deberard. If you need more information on who to ask questions to and I am available, feel free to stop by.” She turned without another word and stalked off.

Eskel found it amazing, the differences in people. Instead of being met with callous disregard or suspicion, she just pointed him in the right direction. The stable was across from the inn, and Eskel could hear people talking and could smell food. The man at the stable looked at Eskel with wide-eyes, but took his horse anyway. When Eskel reached for coin, the man just shook his head, and pointed him to the inn. Eskel frowned and grabbed his saddlebags. This place was getting stranger by the minute.

When he pushed open the door to the inn, conversation stopped nearly entirely as he wound his way up to the bar. This, he was used to. When he took a seat at the bar and made a motion to the lady bar tender, Ashleigh, Eskel supposed, the conversation began to pick back up again. Before the lass made it over to him, he heard the typical fare of insults and curiosities, but he paid it no attention. He took a moment to glance around. The bar seemed not exactly well stocked, but he could see demijohns and could smell lemon vodka. He could also smell the watered-down ale the workers drank during the day, as well as the sour smell of old beer, rotting in a cask somewhere. He could also smell food. Mutton. Not his favorite by far, but it at least smelled well-seasoned.

“Oh, you look like you have had a rough go at it.” The voice of the bartender washed over him, whiskey deep and honeyed.

“Ashleigh I presume?” Eskel asked, as the others looked him over curiously.

“Hmmm, I suppose I am that.” She smiled, though her scent was nervous.

“Looking for a Tessa,” The woman in front of him frowned then seemed to wilt a little.

“I am here.” Eskel turned around and another woman was standing behind him. He frowned, which was hidden by his scars. He blamed her ability to sneak up on him on the patrons of the bar, who had gotten loud again, but the sight of the woman, wholly ordinary, set the hairs on his neck on edge.

“Brought you a note.” He handed it to her and she frowned for a moment. She looked at it and her eyes brightened.

“Just Lance, wanting a brace of leather skins and some nails for a post.” She said out loud as another, much younger woman approached.

“Oh, Papa.” The younger woman sighed in bemusement and then looked to Eskel. “Thank you kind sir, had you not come around, my husband would have had to fetch him from the woods, lost. Perhaps eaten by the monster of the woods.”

“You’re a witcher?” The bartender asked and Eskel turned his attention back to the woman, as the two others sidled up next to him at the bar. “Last one, bloody cheapskate, didn’t think our hospitality kind enough. Centaur ate him, left his coin, left his horse. Paid for it in the end I suppose.”

“It’s not a Centaur…” Another voice broke in. Eskel listened in as the townspeople, now hearing and confirming that he was a witcher, began to chat in hushed voices. He heard no less than eight theories about said monster - what it was, who it had gotten, what they had found left. He was about to ask to see the alderman when the door slammed open and a thin looking man with a nose that had obviously been broken stepped in, followed by two well-dressed men and a woman in a fine looking skirt.

“What’s all this nonsense?” He asked, frowning. “Sitting here waxing poetic about the monster again?”

“The witcher, Barty, he brought me a note from Lance, asking for a brace of leather skins and some nails for the posts he is putting up for his goat.” Tessa snorted, moving away from Eskel as the man approached.

“Did he now?” The man raised a brow, a small smirk appearing on his lips. “Well, I suppose that we shall have to fetch it for him. However, first, sir witcher? I assume you didn’t run into the old coot wandering around the woods and that you are here for the contract?”

“Course he is.” Eskel was interrupted by the woman in the nice skirts. She moved the man over, coming to stand in front of Eskel, and the man rolled his eyes. “I am Alderman Shannon, though most don’t refer to me as that. Surprised? Thought this string bean of a man was who you sought did you? Pah, it’s no matter either way. I am the alderman and that’s that, and you sir, are exactly what we need.”

Eskel nodded and moved to speak, but the alderman put her hand up, interrupting him yet again.

“Now before you go off, asking all your questions, I will tell you this - this place is a fine community good sir and we have no whores. So, no sniffing around to find any and no fooling around with the women. We know your kind well, sir, and the last that came here was a lecherous beasty. We offer you a room for the duration of your stay, food, and stabling for your horse. You’ll have access to a smith, though he is a drunkard and you may want to first talk to his apprentice should you need anything beyond a nail. You will also have access to the bathhouse, which we insist you use fairly immediately. You will also be given a note, which I shall write while you freshen up, so you can question the populace about said monster. Should any refuse you, just write down their names and I shall handle it. You shall also have food, from here, or any of the stands during the day. This problem has gone on far too long and it’s only a matter of time before our fields fallow or we suffer some plague. The monster needs to be dealt with, preferably before the celebration coming up a few days from now.”

Eskel nodded and tried to parse all the information.

“Before I go to the bath,” Eskel said, trying to not sound irritated. “I need to know what you know about the monster.”

“It’s not anything in a bestiary witcher, it is a strange foreign thing.” The alderman said and the voices around them grew quiet. “It’s said to be a grotesque monstrosity, not unlike a fiend, but thinner, angrier, and it has… limbs, not useful ones, but ones like a twin that had been attached and its skin gnawed off. Its limbs are long and as you have probably gathered, it has the head of a horse. However, it opens its maw and spews a poison gas that causes one to hallucinate, badly. Grady, over there, had been bitten by the creature, show him your leg Grady.”

A man stood up, he looked large and well filled out, but he had a limp. He pulled up the leg of his trousers and even Eskel winced.

“A bacterial poison.” Eskel said, examining the old wound which had scarred over. Infection had eaten deep into the man’s muscle tissue and left the skin over the wound pitted and odd. It was a wonder the man had lived.

“He only survived because the logging company had a mage present, to help protect its assets. He healed him, but the damage was too severe to regrow much.” The alderman motioned for the man to leave and he nodded, returning to his table. “He is lucky to be alive.”

“I’ll say.” Eskel frowned. “What is left of those who you find?”

“We have only ever found three corpses we could recognize.” She huffed, turning towards the bar. “Tongues were missing - bitten off, liver in one, heart and lungs in another. And the whole of her chest cavity had been plundered on another, with no sign at all of anything other than a pile of shit laying at her feet where her guts had been wrung out. Not good talk for a tavern, but there you have it. We occasionally stumble upon gnawed bones or a skull, but where the creature has its lair and where they come from is anyone’s guess. The most recent disappearance has been three teenagers - two boys, and a girl. Girl was thirteen, the boys - fourteen and seventeen. The last before that was a man and then a pregnant woman.”

“How recent?” Eskel growled.

“The children? Two weeks ago.” She shook her head. “We would have chalked it up to teenage wanderlust, but we found a single shoe and a bit of bloody scalp belonging to one of the boys. Before you ask, we disposed of it. It was found a week after they disappeared and it stank.”

Eskel sighed.

“The pregnant woman happened about two months ago, she was early on in her pregnancy, and the man before that was taken at the end of winter.” She stated.

“Seems like a lot of missing.” Eskel frowned.

“We have a lot of children and a lot of adults. We look a small town, but five people?” She shook her head. “I myself have eight children and I am the median in the number.”

“So, your town is fertile?” Eskel watched the other townsfolk shift from foot to foot.

“Our town can support it.” She scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. “We have no wise woman who can create concoctions that forestall pregnancy and our doctor barely knows how to stitch. We have an overworked midwife and her apprentice, but don’t be fooled. We lose one in four.”

“Why not petition the king to send a group of knights here to scour the woods?” Eskel asked and at this the alderman’s face turned furious.

“The logging company made that an impossibility.” She stated irately, motioning for Eskel to look out the window. “See those trees Master Witcher? They are walnut trees. A wild copse of them, stretching for miles. And you know what else they have? Look closely, I know your strange eyes can see much.”

Eskel frowned, sharpening his vision. Even through the hazy glass he could see the knots which adorned the trees.

“Burls?”

“Those trees are worth their weight in gold,” She said, turning back to him. “And his Majesty saw fit to outfit the whole of his palace with the wood as his flooring. Only because the company that he hired to take the wood refuses to come back, we have been cut off. We can travel to other towns, surely, and sell what we can. But we cannot sell the burls, we can only sell what we make ourselves. He thinks we cursed the company so we can farm the bloody tumors ourselves, but it is not the case as none of us even knew they were valuable. The monster problem has been around long before the men came to farm them - they knew of it, we warned them of it, but they didn’t listen.”

He could hear the desperation she was trying to hide from the others in her voice.

“And another witcher died.” Eskel frowned, standing. “I will take you up on that bath, and the meal, and the room. I may be yet another corpse at the end, but I will attempt to get to the bottom of this. But the pay…”

“Meager, I know.” The alderman shook her head sadly. “But should this be solved and the king come back, I can promise you more, when our own favor turns.”

Eskel sighed internally, but nodded all the same.

“The bathhouse is two blocks down that way,” Ashleigh the bartender smiled warmly at him and motioned towards the east. “Now, get the hell out of my bar for a bit, ‘cause no one’s drinkin’ or eatin’, and I am damned sure you put many off their want of such things.”

Eskel handed her his saddlebags and she placed them in a trunk with a lock. She handed him a key and he left, feeling the eyes of the townsfolk on him has he left.

He had a headache.

Too many people, too many smells, and too much information passed. It was good information, better than most contracts, and the alderman had been upfront and pleasantly honest. While he could hear her heartbeat was elevated and that she smelled of discomfort, he didn’t smell a lie on her. But that didn’t mean much. He looked around at the buildings, now that the sun had gone down, and the clouds were painted a cascade of brilliant reds and purples. He could see evidence of decoration for a festival. Chairs put out in stacks, benches and tables placed in the yards around the town square. He also noticed a few businesses, their lights dimmed, and their signs swinging in the cooling summer breeze.

There were few people about, most he saw were putting up their daily items, some were heading to the tavern attached to the inn. He heard an accordion start up and thanked his lucky stars that he was out of the place before that racket began. He trudged to where he had been directed and saw the building and the steam coming from a hatch in the roof. The smell here started to get fresher and as he rounded to the entrance, he saw it was also attached to a laundry. The smell of bluing and lye were a familiar comfort as he pushed through the doors, a bored looking man and a little girl perked up.

The smell of water made another problem known. The man behind the counter seemed to understand.

“Private privy is outside behind the building.” The man stated, looking Eskel over. “If you’re a witcher, come back in a moment and I will get your items.”

Eskel decided to start his investigation even before the bath began. He entered the privy and as was expected, it was rich with the aromas of the populace. Before he added his own, he noted that disease here was as it was anywhere else. He could smell illness, could smell the cloying scent of chlamydia, and the strange nervous reactions of too much bile. He could smell the alcohol that passed through their systems and he could smell the sclerosis that followed it. There was another scent here too. Something strange. Eskel had smelled it before, but the where and when escaped him. He had been traveling the path for a long time and sometimes things slipped his mind if they were rare. Perhaps it was something to do with inbreeding? How often had new folk come into this village? How many of them were cousins marrying cousins? He would take a better look at the populace tomorrow, but for now he settled down, did his business, and returned to the man at the baths.

The man had a bucket waiting and in it was a towel which smelled of bluing and sunshine. He had a bar of lye soap and a vial of oil. Eskel raised his brows.

“On the house, of course.” The man chuffed and the girl looked up at him curiously.

“Is there a private section?” Eskel asked.

“Sorry sir, this is a public bath, but you are in luck.” The man smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Most of the town has their own baths at home and those that don’t usually frequent the tavern this time of night to hear Matilda and her small band of buskers play and sing. There isn’t anyone in there, though that may change. We ask that you wash yourself before taking a soak in the big tub. If the big tub is too hot, there are cool tubs as well.”

Eskel nodded. He hadn’t bathed in a proper tub since he had left Kaer Morhen. He had bathed in rivers, creeks, and occasionally buckets of water which an innkeeper kept at the ready for road worn people like him. He tried to keep himself tidy, a habit he had picked up from Geralt, but sometimes, in lean times, it was difficult to achieve.

The bath was a bath. And he indeed moved from the large main tub, which was fed from a boiler, to a cool tub. Summer in the south was warm to say the least and humid. He wished it were cold, so he could sooth his aches and pains better, but getting clean seemed to be a better trade-off this time around. The smell of lye and lavender filled his nose as he washed the oils and road dust from his hair. The gifted oil was a simple olive oil and easy to work through his hair. After he was finished, he tucked what remained in the bottle away in a satchel on his belt so he could use it to shave with.

When he arrived back at the tavern, the buskers had just finished their set, and he had to fight with people to get back inside. Ashleigh saw him and waved him over, he handed her his key and she took his saddlebags out of the trunk.

“Here is a key to your room.” She stated, moving to pour more drinks. “Will you be back for dinner?”

Eskel nodded.

“Good, go out those doors there - they lead to a garden. The inn’s rooms are there, yours is at the corner.”

He grunted as someone sidled up to the spot he was just occupying and sighed.

As he walked through the garden, he saw a woman leaving the room he was set for.

“Just put fresh linens in there for you Master Witcher,” She bowed a little, the stink of fear filling the air. “There is wood for a fire, though it’s warm, and there is fresh water and a chamber pot. I will empty it in the morning.”

Eskel nodded and muttered a thanks.

The plant life dulled much of the sound from the tavern and his own door was set back a way, with lattice and wisteria. The smell of the flowers calmed his nerves and the lock was well oiled and easy to turn.

The room, it was more than he expected honestly. He immediately set down his bags and began to search it. He frowned to himself as it came up clean, dusted, and as the maid had said, everything within was fresh. It smelled unused, to be frank, and he supposed it would be. He listened against the walls for neighboring heartbeats, but found none, and he smelled no others than the maid, an unknown male, and the bartender. He sighed and slipped out of his soiled clothing.

It wasn’t that he was upset that the town had been so accommodating. He was thankful, he really was. And he tried to think if the town was too perfect, but that too wasn’t true. It was just devoid of visitors. It was an out of the way place, he supposed and sometimes that led to people being overly friendly, simply because travelers didn’t pass by often. It was also a crossroads. But there again, something was tickling at the back of his mind.

Something wasn’t adding up.

He hated when his mind did this. A residual of the magic he had at his fingertips. He could feel the chaos of this place spiking against his skin and making him feel antsy for no good reason. His amulet had remained still and chilled against his chest, and while he appreciated that, it made him frown all the more.

Perhaps he would ask the lady bartender more, as the alderman had interrupted their earlier conversation. Looking to the bed, rather forlornly, he decided that food was the first stop and then he could fall into sleep.

When he returned to the tavern, things had settled down and there were only a few people that remained. It was only now that it had mostly emptied, that Eskel saw a serving girl and boy, watching as both of them flitted about the place, cleaning up the mess from the earlier influx of people. The smell, now that most of the people were gone, was absolutely mouthwatering, even though it was mutton. Eskel moved himself to the bar and took a seat at a wooden stool.

“My, my!” Ashleigh grinned, showing the dimples of her cheeks. “You clean up well witcher, I am surprised!”

Eskel chuckled and he saw the flush that graced her cheeks. She was a decent looking woman. She had broad shoulders, due to her profession, and wide hips. There was a softness around her belly that Eskel appreciated deeply and her skin was freckled. Her hair was the same black as most of the populace of the village and her eyes were a rich umber. She flushed again, this time prettily as she moved to grab him a pint glass and fill it with cool ale.

“On the house of course.” She tittered.

“Of course.” Eskel smiled, then realized he had forgotten about his scars and turned his head away from her.

“Now, none of that.” She chided gently. “Let me get you a bowl of stew, I had Mary prepare some fresh bread for you as well.”

She disappeared through a set of doors and he could see her feet standing beside a hearth. When she returned, she had a plate with bread, fresh butter, and stew in hand.

She had barely set it in front of Eskel before he was devouring it.

“Oh, a man with an appetite!” She grinned. “Is it true what they say of witchers? They say you could eat a whole hog in a sitting.”

Eskel snorted and looked up.

“Hardly, but we do eat what we can, when we can afford it.” He stated, eating the stew with relish.

As he had already surmised, it was a mutton stew. It had onions, potatoes, carrots, and what looked to be some sort of strange root that he was unfamiliar with. When he was done with the bowl, he buttered the bread and sloshed it around the bottom of the bowl, catching the leavings. He had just popped the last piece of bread in his mouth when another bowl of stew was placed before him.

“Eat up, Master Witcher.” Ashleigh smiled, this time more warmly.

“Alright.” He dug in once again and she began to flit around the sparse company, asking how their food was and pouring ales for those that were left. By the time he finished, she was back at the bar, cleaning glasses with a soapy rag.

“Alright.” Eskel said, pushing his finished bowl away from himself and feeling his distended stomach gurgling happily. “What can you tell me about the monster?”

“Depressingly little.” She sighed. “Took my brother a year ago and my Ma two before that. Took the Parker’s sons, cute little tykes, just last year before the fall began. It has become a tradition for the older folks or those who have bad humors to go into the woods, to seek a quick end. The alderman has gathered all she could, but the populace disagrees on its countenance and there seems to be no pattern to the disappearances. I know we seem strange to outsiders, but we are a friendly lot and had we not had this strange circumstance floating over our heads, I am sure we would have guests a plenty. I suppose it suits us though, saves us from the troubles that ail the rest of the world.”

Eskel hummed softly in agreement.

“What of you Master Witcher? You have not even graced us with your name?” Ashleigh smiled again, leaning against the bar.

“I am Eskel,” He stated and she grinned slyly.

“Well, Eskel, tell me of yourself. You must have some grand stories.” At this Eskel frowned and felt his stomach clench, upsetting the happy digestion that was taking place.

“My work is never grand.” He stated lowly. “It is full of heartache, murder, death, and mourning. Rare is it that I come upon a place with a problem that has gotten used to it. I normally only smell terror and fear, and I am pushed out as soon as I solve the problem, whatever it is.”

“That is sad.” She sighed, straightening up. “And I suppose it’s fair that you dodge my question, after all I am but a stranger to you.”

“Most of my lighthearted stories involve my brothers.” He starts. “We get into some shenanigans during the winter, mostly…”

His face falls, he feels pathetic. He looked up at her and saw a patience expression on her face. Something about it made him want to open up to her.

“Tell me, do you ever feel as though an expectation has been made of you, that you have no way to live up to?” Eskel asked and before he could stop himself, his mouth ploughed forward. “My brothers, my mentor. They all think I am the golden child. I try to live up to it, but it’s starting to wear on me. When I am home, they treat me like, I don’t know…”

“Like the sun shines out of your rear?” She asked, a wry smile forming on her lips. “Like gold falls from your mouth?”

“Yes, like that.” Eskel looked to her and she nodded softly.

“I understand it.” She said, her voice just above a whisper. “When I took over the inn, I did so because my parents thought I was the most stable and steady of my siblings. My job is to entertain and keep the village idiots fed. But I am a woman, a crone if you are to listen to the gossipmongers, I’ve never married, never had an interest. Then word spread that I was entertaining visitors and they took exception. I half think that the reason the loggers were driven out is because I was the only one to offer them solace as they spent long months away from their wives.”

She stopped bussing for a moment. They were driven out? Eskel made a point to remember that fact as it sounded more like a slip of the tongue than a well learned lie.

“I think I too would like to leave this place.” She said quietly, waving at a couple who were leaving, her smile turning sad. “But here, I know I have coin, and a roof over my head. Out there? I know how it works. My brother left and his letters, before they stopped coming, were eye opening. But I still wonder sometimes. We all have a job to do and I think I wouldn’t thrive in the outside world.”

“You make it sound so different.” Eskel sighed.

“It is.” She nodded. “You yourself were taken back by our hospitality. So was the witcher before you.”

“And what did he do about it?”

“Nothing.” She stated and her expression became withdrawn. “It’s too bad that it was like that.”

Eskel nodded softly and stood up, earning a curious glance from the woman.

“Gotta be up early if I want to catch the market in full swing.” He said as an excuse, no longer wanting to be in the public eye, even if the tavern was mostly empty now.

“Well, Master Eskel,” She dipped her head a little, smiling, her brown eyes catching the torchlight so beautifully it made his heart clench. “I wish you a good rest, I highly doubt the monster will attack in the night and if it does, it is so quiet about here, you will know.”

Eskel returned to his room and began to set out his items for the next day. He put aside his riding leathers and took out his armored pants from one of his saddlebags. He left them on a chair so they could straighten out a little before he put them on. He then gathered his small amount of soiled clothing, hoping that the town launderer wouldn’t charge him too much to get a week’s worth of horse, sweat, and road dirt out of them. After that was all said and done, he went to take stock of his potions, make sure they were still useable and sound. He may not need them soon, but it had been drilled into him to have everything ready at a moment’s notice.

After that was done, he opened up his sword kit and began to clean his scabbards of the extra oil, and inadvertent bits of monsters and animals he had picked up recently. Again, it was one of those things he was drilled into doing, as regularly as he could. It was hard to do on the road, simply because it would take a full day for them to air out. He unlatched the leather bands that kept the two pieces together for his steel sword and then unwrapped the binding cloth from them. When he opened it up, he winced at both the smell and the look. Brown sludgy oil lined the interior of the wood and leather casing. Sighing, he set himself to cleaning them with several spare rags of cloth that used to be clothing.

This at least was somewhat calming and it allowed him to focus on the problem at hand.

He went over what he was told, once again, and he began to narrow down what the monster could possibly be. If he had to place a guess, he would put his money - not on what the populace thought it was - but rather on a fiend. They had much the same description as what the townspeople spoke of and they ate organs first before anything else. They too were able to hypnotize their victims and while they didn’t necessarily go out of their way for human flesh, if they saw an opportunity, they would take it. But even that didn’t feel quite right. Fiends, at their core, were animals. And an animal with an easy food source would return far more often to it than a few disappearances every few months. Fiends also tended to like younger prey, but fiends would leave traces everywhere. There would be hoof prints, scat, trees whose bark had been rubbed off and sprayed for territorial displays. There would be fur and a thicket which it would have built a nest in. There would also be antler shed.

He hadn’t seen any signs of this on his travels into the town.

And that was another thing. The path he traveled was tended to, but wasn’t traveled often. He had noticed signs of horses and such from a rider or two, likely Tessa and her daughter, and husband, but very little else in the way of other travelers.

That too sat ill with him. Illegal traders usually wet themselves at the prospect of trading with towns who were on a king’s shortlist. Towns like this usually became havens for those wishing to avoid the king’s wrath. When the lines from a town to a king were cut it usually meant that the town began to wither and rot, their morals right alongside them. But there were no outsiders here. Not a single one other than himself. Why have an inn?

He heard soft footsteps coming through the garden and was surprised, mostly because it dawned on him how truly quiet the town had become. He waited, listening to the hesitant shuffle as the feet turned away, paused, and then began stepping up to his door with determination.

Whoever it was smelled of beer and lamb. He snuck to the door, to catch whoever it was off guard, and just as he heard a rustle of movement, he swung open the door.

“Eskel!” It was Ashleigh. Eskel frowned, confused.

“What can I help you with?” He asked. She flushed, eyes wide, and stammered for a moment.

“I just… I mean…” Her cheeks went cherry red and he could smell her arousal, her fear, and excitement. It wasn’t the fear of terror, but the fear of the unknown. The fear you got when you faced down your first monster on the path alone. Adrenaline, she was shaking with it. He knew what she was after then, he could smell it on the air as he drew back his lip and leaned forward. A visible shudder went through her as he spoke low and clear, pointedly ignoring the voice in the back of his head that told him not to fraternize, not to get close. He knew she was likely only interested because he was an outsider, because he was a witcher. But for once, he wanted to be selfish, he wanted to ignore the constant nagging of his instructors that spoke in a mantra at the back of his head.

“Hmmm, well, door’s open.” He suddenly felt himself panic a little. His scars. It created an opening he couldn’t close easily. He hid it as best as he was able, leaning over his food so no one would see how much of it didn’t stay in place. But he had learned, embarrassingly, what the hole in his lip did, at the keep this past winter. And the numbness of his lips on that side didn’t help matters.

He didn’t hear her following and instead he could smell anger.

“What, that’s it then?” She seethed quietly.

Eskel turned and frowned at her.

“You just… invite me in? Like - Like I am a common… whore?” She looked at him balefully.

There was a retort on the tip of his tongue, but he held it at bay as he looked at her.

“What were you expecting?” Eskel stated plaintively, debating if the argument would be worth it. “Normally if I take a lover, even for a night, I put forth rules and expectations, after all you are only human.”

“I… what?” She looked at him, confusion breaking the angry scent that momentarily surrounded her.

“You are human.” He said again, turning around and removing his tunic. “You will start something you cannot finish or I will hurt you if rules aren’t established straight away. You are looking for a night of romance from a stranger. I get that. But that is not how I work, it’s not how any of us work.”

He turned to her and she took an involuntary step back. He thought about just seeing her out and living with the rumors and disappointment that followed. That’s what the masters would want. That’s what the voices in his head were demanding he do. But he was sick of living by their rules! Instead, he allowed his blood to begin to flow and felt the heat of it rush to the surface of his skin. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, drawing in her scent fully, sneering as he did so. She was primed, ready as a human could get to bare a babe. He could smell the thick mucus that dripped from her, the scent of arousal, the scent of ovulation. He loved the smell of women. He loved how close to blood they always smelled. He let his mouth fall open as he breathed and could hear her heart begin to speed up.

“You, are human.” He stated again, opening his eyes and seeing their amber glow on his nose, it had the desired effect as she gasped, her heartbeat kicked up, and the smell of her anxiety came through clearly.

“Your eyes…” It was a gasp and for the first time, her eyes seemed not to focus on the scars, but rather on his own eyes. He could smell her sweat now, through the smell of the bar and too many people. She didn’t smell of another man, not where it mattered, and Eskel felt himself growing hard as his own eyes darted to her bosom, which while covered was ample.

He thought about his face, he thought about the fact that he had already been kicked out of one of his usual stops of whore houses because his marred faced had frightened the new management and the new girls, to hell with his reputation. He wouldn’t get another opportunity, not now. He raised his fingers and for the first time, he cast Axii on a bed partner.

“Tell me,” He demanded, turning towards her, as her eyes dulled. “Tell me what you really want.”

“I want you to breed me, the others…they won’t touch me. I am too important, too vital.” Her voice was dull as she spoke the truth of her mind to him. “I want to be used, bred like a common whore, used by a man so much stronger than any other man I have had. I want to feel helpless and meek, I want it to hurt, I want to bleed. I want to watch as you lose your mind to your instincts and there is nothing I can do to stop it.”

Eskel felt his nostrils flare. He released the Axii and she had just enough time for an incredulous look to pass over her face, before Eskel was growling and had her pinned against the wall. When she moved to hit him, he grabbed her hands and she let out a shaky groan that was half fear, half arousal, he leaned in close to her neck, and took a deep breath. She was intoxicating, especially now that he had his blood up and his guard down. He felt like he was reclaiming some lost part of himself.

“I can smell you…” He purred against her neck, his lips hovering over where he felt her pulse. “I can smell everything about you. I can smell how you lust for me - a monster, how it shames you, how it… titillates you.”

The effect was immediate and he moved his knee to her groin, she arched in surprise, and then groaned as she rubbed against his leg. He nearly snapped then, but he held himself, knowing she was human. But maybe, just maybe he could let go. He was growling now and anyone that heard it would think it was a warning. But his brothers from the keep would have recognized it. He needed this, needed to feel her skin against his. His whole body was aching for it and if he needed to be a little rough for it, he would be.

“And this monster has one thing on his mind.” He didn’t wait for her to answer even as she began to draw a breath to do so.

He bit her. He bit into her neck and something rattled free in his brain. Something he kept locked up, except in winters when he was safe and away from prying eyes. The woman moved to scream, but his hand was over her mouth, her now free hand dug into his forearm as he released her from the bite and began to suck and lick his way up her neck. Her initial fear turned into a heady arousal and when he bit her again, she groaned in appreciation. When he removed his hand from her mouth, it was only to grab her jaw and kiss her soundly, demandingly. He didn’t think about his scars, or his lips, or how this could be a disaster, instead she groaned into it, licking into his mouth like a woman dying of thirst. She didn’t notice the string of saliva that connected them when he pulled away, instead she moaned softly.

Eskel moved his hand to her breast, still covered in fabric, and his cock pulsed so hard he nearly thought he had lost himself. Even through her bindings he could feel her nipple peak and he massaged her breast as he began to breathe into her ear.

“Beg for it,” He whispered, licking at the shell, and enjoying the unique bitter salty taste that always was around ears. “I want to hear how badly your leaking cunt wants my cock, how badly you want me to fill you with pups.”

He thrust against her just a little, to let her feel what she was getting into. She sobbed, tears in her eyes.

“Fuck me, please, fuck me…” It was all he needed. With a practice hand, he untied the bow on her bodice and with quick fingers he loosened it up. He didn’t want to rip it, he wasn’t sure if she was in good enough standing to allow such a thing and he still had enough of his mind with him to not want to hurt her in ways she may not appreciate. He removed her skirt and petticoat as well. Both held with up simple knots and he all but whined when he finally got her bindings removed. She was round and soft, her bodice and bindings had left harsh marks on her skin and she hissed with relief to find them gone. But once her skirts were gone, he realized that she hadn’t been wearing any underthings.

He snapped.


	2. Dread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel continues his attempts to get to the bottom of the dissapearances, he meets with several families, and things just don't add up.
> 
> Eskel walked back and little ways into the village, before stopping, releasing his nose, and feeling the strange panic he had felt when he had been given the food rear up. A whole village talking about missing persons and the one person who was from out of the area having no idea at all that there was something afoot. He knew that sometimes people wanted to keep their problems from outsiders, but the hunter lived here. He should have heard something, seen something. He cursed internally as he began to walk again, this time aimlessly.
> 
> Was no one else in the village able to hunt? Did they want to keep him out of the loop because they didn’t want to lose him? But that would have failed! The hunter said he saw nothing other than wolves and, though he didn’t say it outright, the cougars that could fell a man. Surely a hunter, one who was from the north since he mentioned Melitele, would know the signs of a monster. Surely he would have found signs of human remains while he patrolled around the village forest to fell prey?
> 
> Eskel felt bile stick in the back of his throat.

CHAPTER 2

Eskel wasn’t sure how they had gotten onto the bed, but he was sucking and biting at her breasts, Ashleigh was gasping and arching against him as he plunged his fingers into her cunt. The smell of her around his fingers was so overpowering, it was all he could focus on. The animal part of his brain came to the forefront and demanded to be in her, seeding her, making her his. He felt wild with it in a way he had never let himself feel. Feral, strong, and he was going to take what he wanted from her. He flipped her roughly, because he didn’t want to see her face, not now. No, she was a hole for him, warm, wet, and ready.

He pulled up her hips and she arched her back in submission, looking back at him with hazy eyes.

He mounted her like she was a bitch in heat, and she keened and brayed like it. His cock slid home and while she was far from a virgin, she was not prepared for a witcher, even though he had tried. It was tight, tense, and he knew it had to be painful, but it felt so good. His mind was lost in the feral, blinding need to breed, to rut, and he thrust into her even as she flooded around him, her body shaking, and her breath shuddering.

The sound of skin hitting skin drove him on and her movements to meet his fueled his lust. He felt the precipice approaching and he barreled over the edge howling like the animal he felt himself to be. She thought it was over as he flooded her with his seed, marking her as his, if only for the night. But the first orgasm only drove the rest and he didn’t stop. Her look of pleased satisfaction flickered and turned to fear, her body tensing, and his cock pulsed with joy as he fucked his seed from her, preparing to fill her once again.

He took her over and over again, and she encouraged him to for a while, but soon she went mindless with his rutting, and he…he was only getting started.

 _Only human_. The words echoed around his head and was buried by the need to spill, the need for pleasure, the feel of her skin against his even as she lay limp, her body succumbing to exhaustion.

When he was satisfied, when at last his balls were wrung of everything in them, he pulled out, and looked to the mess he had created. She was covered in his seed, laying limp on the bed. He thought, for a strange minute, that he had killed her and nearly went mindless with panic, until she cracked an eye open, smiled at him, and then he knew. She had played him. She was bloodied, raw, covered with bruises and teeth marks, yet she beckoned him forward, wrapping her arms around him, even as they lay in the filth of their coupling.

He wanted to snarl at her, reach over and snap her neck. But instead he buried his nose in her hair and his own body, exhausted, fell soundly into sleep.

He woke up next to her, next to Ashleigh, and he was filled with regret.

She felt him stir and stirred herself, groaning low as he removed his arms from her. He had been clinging to her in his sleep. He expected the worst, to be told off, for her to scream, for something, anything to happen. Instead, she looked at him fondly, stroking a soft hand down the numbness of his scars.

“Thank you, it was everything I could have wanted.”

He watched her dress and leave with a smile on her face, realizing for the first time that she wasn’t looking for a love or a lover beyond a night. Why would she? He had showed her his strength, and though he found a new respect for human women and their beguiling sturdiness, he also realized that he had come dangerously close to killing her. Several times. He groaned as ‘good’ Eskel chided him in Vesemir’s voice, warning him that he had been stupid. He hated when the voice was right and hated it even more when he found himself agreeing with it.

He finished up the chores he had started the night previous, before he had been interrupted. He wasn’t sure what time of day it was when he emerged from his room, but he could smell sausage and eggs, so he went into the tavern, almost regretting the fact that he would have to see Ashleigh again.

“Ah he stirs.” She smiled, the same smile she gave everyone else, as she slid a plate with a generous portion of eggs and sausage his way. “Rather a late sleeper aren’t you witcher?”

“I suppose.” He said and his own voice revealed nothing. She smiled, this time far more genuine. She had covered her bites with a glamour and her dress covered most everything else. The patrons, mostly older folk this time of day, looked to Eskel with curiosity.

Breakfast first and then he could seek out the populace to ask his questions. He quickly shoveled his food into his mouth, hardly bothering to chew before swallowing. Just as he was finishing, he heard some mumbling outside and the door to the tavern slammed inwards.

“There he is!” It was Lady Deberard and Eskel felt a growl, a true one, rising up in his throat. “I gathered just about half the town to see that you could ask your questions and I…”

Eskel stood up, this time, in his armor with both his swords on his back, cleaned and gleaming. She stopped her tirade immediately.

“As much as it pains me to admit, you have likely gathered them together for nothing.” He bowed his head a little as she stammered. “I am not sure what happened when the Bear School witcher came through here-“

“Nothing happened!” Lady Deberard shouted with a little too much force. “He didn’t ask us a single bloody question and ignored us when we tried to talk to him!”

“There are differences between our guilds.” Eskel supplied. “Bears, they tend to take problems head on. They do not ask many questions and if they asked them, you likely wouldn’t know about it.”

He didn’t say why, knowing full well that Bears could get what they needed through Axii and little else.

“But I am a Wolf and my school’s specialty is curse breaking.” He stated and squared his shoulders. “The town needs to be in the same order it would normally be in, in order for me to do my job properly. If this is a curse, if these people are called elsewhere somehow, I will need to be able to find those who may yet still be under its sway, and large groups of people make it easy for a curse to hide. I dearly appreciate your attempts to make my job easier, but that is also the very reason I didn’t leave my room until recently. I had to prepare my gear and armor up.”

At this Lady Deberard looked rather sheepish, her loose skin and jowls flooded with color.

“The alderman gave strict instructions last night to not meddle with him.” Ashleigh called from the bar, as people began to flood in around Lady Deberard, looking equally as sheepish. “You are all idiots and Fire help us, Joseph? You too? It will be a wonder if he doesn’t just politely bow out now, you bunch of hen-pecked gossipers.”

Eskel didn’t smile at her remark. He was irritated and now he wanted to leave. He was doing his best to hold his temper.

“You harlot! You low born…” Lady Deberard started in on Ashleigh and Eskel saw someone motioning at him from the door. It was Lady Deberard’s teenage son. Everyone’s eyes began to turn to the woman and the bartender bickering, Eskel deftly moved around them and the crowd, and saw his way out the door to the boy, who had already begun to walk down the street. He slipped between two shops and Eskel automatically followed him, only to just about knock the young man over.

“You sir are made of granite.” He stated, laughing a little, his voice cracking over the words. “Sorry about my Mum, she is, even on her best days, a meddler.”

Eskel nodded. Looking at the boy who had begun to walk through the alleyway and then behind the houses.

“I am supposed to be starting our dough so it can rise enough to be freshly baked for tomorrow’s festival, I have a few minutes to spare, perhaps an hour, but I can’t be seen with you.” He stated.

“Why not?” Eskel looked to the lanky teen and the teen laughed again, his steps faltering a little, even as his expression turned sour.

“It’s a long story, but I will point you in the right direction.” The boy shook his head and swooned a little, before finding his footing again. Eskel sniffed the air subtly. That strange scent was hanging around the boy. “Scott, our hunter, who lives on the outskirts, is where I would start. Can’t miss his place, his fence is laden with furs he is drying. Then I would head to lady Dondelinger’s place, she is our town records keeper. She can give you information on who died and when. Then I would stop at the bakery and talk to either David or Miss Natalie, they lost their son and brother last year, and he was only a tyke. Then…”

The boy looked around, making sure no one was nearby and there truly wasn’t, Eskel could hear nothing other than the sound of dogs and rats in the back alley. “Then I would seek out the house of Jamulet.”

“That one sounds like where I should start.” Eskel raised a brow, but the boy quickly shook his head.

“You want to seem aimless, all those places, and the order I gave them, will not only give you a direction, but will fill in the story in ways the others won’t be able to.” He stated.

“Why?”

For the first time Eskel’s amulet gave a pulse and the boy winced, stumbling a little before catching himself.

“If you are anything like the stories I have read, then you will know why.” The boy looked up at him and Eskel nodded.

“Well I best be off!” The boy laughed again and wavered a little as he turned. “I wish you luck witcher!”

Eskel watched him move away and frowned.

The town was cursed then.

But the problem was, with what?

The boy smelled odd and his gait, even as he watched the boy round the corner, seemed off. The privy at the bathhouse held the same smell. Whatever was happening here, Eskel had a feeling he was not going to be able to ask direct questions about the problem and get the answers he needed. Sighing to himself, he began to head straight out of the alleyway and towards the direction where the land hadn’t been cleared by logging. He wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth and he wasn’t going to betray the strange boy’s trust by going to places out of order.

Finding the hunter’s hut was a little more problematic than he anticipated, because he had expected it to be near the thick of the forest. Instead, he found it near on the opposite side of where he had started. Like the boy said, it was unmistakable. He had not only deer skins lining his fence, but also cow skins. The hut was small, but there was a building next to it that smelled of tannins and ash. A tannery then.

Then the smell hit him. The smell of lime and rot.

“Be right there with ya sir!” A voice called out from the shed and Eskel, for the first time in recent memory, had to use his mutations to turn off his olfactory senses. He waited by the fence, feeling strange about not being able to smell anything, when a man, covered in a waxed apron came running out of the shed.

“Sorry Kopac… I was just…” He squinted at Eskel and then looked surprised. “Not Kopac.”

“No I am not, I am Eskel, a witcher.” He stated, looking at the house, the drying skins, and trying not to see the rotting pile of fat at the rear of the house.

“Ah, well if you need something for repairing your armor, I sell my finalized product to-“

“Not interested.” Eskel waved his hand.

“Then my soaps! I sell those to-“

“Again, appreciate the offers, but not interested.” Eskel looked at the man for a moment and he shuffled nervously. “How’s hunting, Scott?”

“Good! Great actually!” Scott beamed, completely oblivious that Eskel had used his name at all. “Since the loggers left the roe have come back and its been good eating! Why just the other day I was out there and…”

“What about small game? Rabbits, pheasants…”

“Well the rabbits are always plentiful,” He snorted, waving a hand. “Foxes too, the buggers. Wolves, sometimes, but they are fat on the roe here ‘bouts and don’t even so much as sniff at the sheep. Looken’ to buy a muff for your lady? If so then-“

“Anything in those woods that could kill a man?” Eskel asked, looking to the woods beyond the fields.

“Wolves?” The man said shrugging. “Look sir…?”

“Eskel please, just Eskel.”

“I have to get this scudding done before I leave out tomorrow. Have a three day hunt planned, been hearing something about an albino cougar and I aim to see if I can find the sucker.” At that Eskel raised his brows. “Oh ho ho! I see! A rarity gatherer, well let me tell you what witcher, I aim to go in, see that cat, and then make sure no fool kills it.”

“You aim to protect it?” Eskel was taken aback.

“Aim to let it breed.” The man said, his glee drawing out the e’s and making them far higher pitched than they needed to be. “Eyewitness was chased away from it and her kittens, almost grown now. One of the kittens is albino too! Poor Boris was beside himself, said he saw a ghost cougar!”

“You, aren’t from around here are you?” Eskel asked, chuckling.

“What gave it away?” The man laughed and it was a hardy laugh, a true laugh. “I moved here about a year and a half ago. Best decision I have ever made in my life!”

“Did you hear about the missing loggers?” Eskel asked, going out on a limb.

“Oh that stupid business.” The man’s face pinched. “Between you and I, the king’s a right idiot. Those men were so afraid of their own shadows, it was a wonder they got any work done at all! A week after they had packed up and left, I tracked the man. Found him hangin’ from a tree with a note, saying he was sick of life. Poor sod, Melitele guide him.”

“What of the others?” Eskel asked.

“The others?” The man frowned. “No one else as far as I know.”

Eskel frowned, he couldn’t tell if he was telling the truth or not, but he didn’t look like he was lying and his heart had only picked up when he mentioned others.

“No one at all? No missing pregnant women? No missing teenagers?”

“Annalee, the only pregnant woman who has left the village as of recent, was heading to Metinna city. Wanted to see a proper doctor about her pregnancy, not the drunk we have here.” At this Eskel frowned.

“And the Bear School witcher that showed up last year?” Eskel asked.

“Bear School…” The man’s eyes grew wide with confusion. “I think I would have remembered a witcher, you are rather unique looking. Two swords? Only ever heard about you lot in tavern tales. He may have stopped through when I was gone. You caught me on one of my rare days back. Normally I wait till winter, putting my skins in salts till I can get ‘em all done at once. But I had a special order for some velvet and it’s a process, so I stopped back home here to see it done before I had to leave out again.”

“So this town isn’t in need of a witcher?” Eskel asked, putting a little inflection in his voice that he was mildly disappointed.

“Can’t say I know that it does.” Scott tilted his head. “Pretty far off the beaten path too, but if you stop at the Swan Song you can get some vittles, that Ashleigh is a good soul.”

“I will see if I can.” Eskel nodded. “Thank you for your time, Scott.”

The man smiled and waved, before turning around and heading back into his tannery.

Eskel walked back and little ways into the village, before stopping, releasing his nose, and feeling the strange panic he had felt when he had been given the food rear up. A whole village talking about missing persons and the one person who was from out of the area having no idea at all that there was something afoot. He knew that sometimes people wanted to keep their problems from outsiders, but the hunter lived here. He should have heard something, seen something. He cursed internally as he began to walk again, this time aimlessly.

Was no one else in the village able to hunt? Did they want to keep him out of the loop because they didn’t want to lose him? But that would have failed! The hunter said he saw nothing other than wolves and, though he didn’t say it outright, the cougars that could fell a man. Surely a hunter, one who was from the north since he mentioned Melitele, would know the signs of a monster. Surely he would have found signs of human remains while he patrolled around the village forest to fell prey?

Eskel felt bile stick in the back of his throat.

The hunter, he could be the monster. Werewolves have been known to have a varied appearance. From the far more truly wolfish, to the downright ugly mangy ones that he often hunted due to their madness. He made a note to see himself back to the hunter’s cottage after dusk, when he could ask about him without the risk of being discovered. In the meanwhile, he couldn’t rule out that it was still something else, someone else.

Because why would the teenage son of Lady Deberard be unable to speak of it? Perhaps it was an internal problem, and the alderman had demanded a mage force the townspeople take an oath to not tell outsiders? But then, why were so many people wanting to talk to him about it? To confuse him perhaps? The fact of the matter was, he had far less information than he needed. He had worked on less of course, but when he did, he usually got screwed in the end.

He shook his head softly and began to walk again.

He stopped once, to ask someone to point him to the keeper of the town records and they happily did so. He stepped in front of a large building, a library, he realized. A town this size with a library? It was a rare thing, but he supposed that with as out of the way as it was, it probably was a good thing. When he got there and stepped inside, a young woman met him.

“How can I help you witcher?”

“I am looking for Mrs. Ah… Dondelinger?” Eskel felt like a fool saying her name.

“Ah, she prefers Melissa.” The young woman smiled. “She has actually stepped out, had to run a few things to the laundry.”

“Ah.” Eskel cursed to himself, he had wanted to bring stuff to the laundress himself. “Well I need her, gonna go see if I can catch her on the way back.”

The girl nodded softly and said nothing more as Eskel turned and walked from the building.

Finding the center of town was easy and when he stepped into the tavern it was full of people lunching. Ashleigh was busy and he didn’t want to bother her. Several of the townsfolk waved at him, smiling. It set his teeth on edge, for no reason other than it was friendly.

 _I am turning into Geralt._ Eskel mused, as he darted to his room and quickly bagged his soiled clothes into a burlap sack. Geralt generally thought everyone was out to get him. That no matter what he smelled on the air, there was an ulterior motive. He hadn’t really appreciated that world view until now, but he was starting to feel it.

He walked out again and Ashleigh waved at him this time. He nodded, but movement caught his eye. he saw some of the tavern goers look to him and stand as if they wanted to speak with him. He quickly dodged out of the tavern before they could approach. He retraced his steps back to the bathhouse and from there, the smell of bluing lead him to the laundry.

Two women stood outside in the laundry area and several children were playing in the street in front of it. The two women of interest were talking to one another. There was a tall thin woman, who had a wash stick paddle and was stirring around clothes in a tub, and the other was a very short, very rotund woman, who had her bodice mis-tied so it lay across her chest oddly, and her skirt was pulled up right under her breasts. She was leaning against the lip of the laundry tub, chatting at a speed which had Eskel internally kicking himself. They saw him approaching and he nodded.

“Oh ho ho, look at that.” The skinny one cried out and Mrs. Dondelinger turned her gray curled head to him. “The witcher! And he looks like he has work for me!”

“Oh now Jenny, don’t go getting too excited or we will wind up having to wash your skirts too!” The women tittered and Eskel groaned internally. “Let’s see what the lad wants and then you can go about ruining your skirts.”

“Afternoon.” Eskel smiled and it had the effect that he wanted. Both women winced a little before regaining their composure. “I am looking for Melissa and I am also looking to get these washed.”

He walked over to them, and the laundress took his bag quickly, frowned, as it smelled like death, and then smiled gleefully. She tottered over to a table where she had wooden tags set out, attached one to his bag, and then came back handing one to him.

“Well, as you are here to see Melissa, here she is!” She said as Melissa turned and looked up to Eskel.

“I have need of records.” Eskel said, trying to keep the irritation out of his tone. “If you please.”

“Then walk with me, witcher.” She patted him on his armored bracer and turned, winking salaciously at her skinny friend who grinned, showing off several missing teeth.

“Now, it has been an age since we got a new person around here.” She smiled warmly.

“Ah, since the hunter came?” Eskel asked and she startled a little, before smiling, the expression not really reaching her eyes.

“Ah yes, Scott, troubled fellow.” She tutted and shook her head softly. “Memory problems, witcher. War veteran, from the skirmishes of the far north. Assuming you ran into him?”

“Yeah, I did.” Eskel stated, as the woman continued onwards, heading back to the library. “Seemed strangely scatterbrained. Was going on and on about an albino cougar and trying to send me to the smith and bathhouse to buy his soaps, and leather items, respectively.”

She laughed at this, her smile once again turning genuine.

“In a day, he’ll not even remember you were here, poor sot.” She stated. “Boris came out of the woods shortly after Scott arrived here, higher than a kite on those little mushrooms you can find under cow dung. He was talking about an albino cougar dame who came after him and had three perfectly white cubs near full grown following her. Scott didn’t understand his predicament. He goes out into the woods, follows his lines, forgets why he was out there, and then comes back. He is only reminded of the cougar because he has a note nailed on the inside of his door reminding him of such.”

Something was off about her scent. She wasn’t necessarily lying, and because she was rotund and they were walking, it was hard to tell if her quickened heartbeat was from the exercise or if she was lying outright.

“Poor fellow.” Eskel agreed.

“Indeed!” She brightened at Eskel’s easy acceptance of what she said. “But enough about him, how goes your investigation?”

“In its infancy I am afraid.” Eskel shook his head sadly. “I sought you out so you could help me navigate the deaths, see if I could find a pattern.”

The woman giggled and clapped her hands excitedly.

“Oh you are ever so much better than that bear bloke that came through here.” She crowed, looking up to him. “He didn’t even give me a second glance!”

“How strange.” Eskel said, suddenly realizing why the teen had sent him to her. “He would be missing out.”

Her already flushed cheeks, flushed redder still, and he could hear a legitimate jump in her heartrate. The smell of her arousal, which he expected, however didn’t manifest.

“I suppose what they say about witchers is true then.” She grinned back to him. “However, I am off the market, my daughter took the rest of me with her when she came out. I was lucky, we had a visiting doctor, he saved me, but I am barren sir witcher, much to my dismay.”

“There are other ways.” Eskel raised his brow and was surprised when she laughed so loudly that several other townspeople turned to them and looked.

“Oh ho! Be careful or I’ll think the offer is genuine.”

“And you would have cause to think it wasn’t?” Eskel raised a brow and he knew he had her. She looked at him with something akin to hope. Like a drowning woman in a river, who saw someone in a boat racing to find her.

“I… see.” This time, Eskel knew her blush was real and while he couldn’t smell the scent of what he would call traditional arousal, he could smell interest and that was good enough. “So tell me, what is your name?”

“Eskel, my good lady.” He bowed a little and she laughed as they approached the building.

“Eskel, exactly what are you looking for?”

“Dates, mostly.” Eskel stated. “Disappearance dates, death dates if you have them.”

She nodded and smiled sadly this time.

“A real shame all of them, but it can’t be helped I suppose.” She stated and Eskel frowned.

They stepped into the building and the young woman at the desk, who Eskel could now pinpoint as the Melissa’s daughter, smiled warmly.

“Now, Eunice, you be a good lass and be home by supper, or your pa will make you muck out Ladybird’s stall, and not your brother.”

The girl smiled and laughed, coming around the countertop, and leaning over to kiss her mother’s forehead. Eskel got a good sniff of her and the strange scent that had carried on the teen boy, followed her as well.

“I will be home Mama, I only go to help Stephen with his darning, he won’t keep me till dinner.” She smiled softly and flitted out the door, all youth and skirts.

“Good kid you got.” Eskel said offhandedly, as he looked around the library. “Place is empty.”

“It is,” Melissa sighed a little. “Summer does that. Come winter, they will be pawing at my door, demanding one of the public readings or trying to check out books their neighbors have on loan. It becomes a madhouse.”

“Even here?” Eskel asked, as she began to lead him to a small office set away from the main library.

“We don’t get as cold as Toussaint or Nazair, but we occasionally get ice, and we get rain. Droves of it. The fields are so muddy the farmers can do nothing but hope that the topsoil doesn’t wash away due to the clearing.” She stated seriously, hopping up onto her desktop. “The records are in that chest, all of them. Disappearances, deaths, going back the last twenty years. Help yourself.”

Eskel decided to press his luck and he kneeled before her. Her eyes suddenly went wide.

“You said you had a husband?” He asked and she nodded softly, shame filtering through her features.

“Yes, but due to my condition I let him seek company elsewhere, as I have nothing to offer him anymore.” She stated, then panicked. “He is a good man I swear! But a man has needs, and there is only so much my hand and mouth can give him. He cares for me and my girl, and that’s all I could ask for.”

“Hmmm.” Eskel rumbled, looking up to her. “And does he return the favor?”

“He… gets upset. I am not a pretty woman, Eskel.” She stated and Eskel frowned.

“Could have fooled me,” He rumbled, “May I?”

“Do what you will.”

Eskel knew he probably shouldn’t push it with these people, but he was off kilter, off focus. He hadn’t had an experience like the one he was having currently since his first years alone on the path. The bartender was an easy read. She was a horny woman who could have any man in town with just a look. But this one, Eskel felt a little bad for taking advantage, but the words of Vesemir echoed in his head.

_Take any advantage that you can, even ones that seem strange. You never know what results will yield when you look in places no other would think to look._

A woman who was more or less denied something so trivial to most, for what? Fifteen years? The world seemed unfair. But he knew too, that she had likely been lying on the road, about the hunter. The hunter seemed of sound mind, if a bit eclectic. He needed her in his pocket, he needed her loose, adoring, and willing to talk to him. He needed her and so he was more than willing to give her something in return.

He shifted himself under her skirts, she gasped, and he felt her legs try to close. But he began to nuzzle one of them, plump and pale.

“Oh! I thought…”

“There is more than one way, I assure you.” Eskel grinned, knowing she couldn’t see him. He kissed up her thigh, with as tall as he was and as short as the woman was, there wasn’t much room. When he reached her underthings, he tugged at them, and she leaned back on her hands, moving her hips. He backed up a little, slid them down to her ankles, and then wedged himself between her legs. He moved his hands, and grabbed her hips, sliding her forward, and she gasped, her soft thighs pillowing his ears.

“You are strong,” She sighed and Eskel chuckled.

“Lean back, my lady, lay back if you can.” He instructed. He could feel her shaking under his grasp, he could smell sorrow and trepidation. But here, near her center, he could clearly smell what had been muffled by the skirts, she wanted this.

When he looked to her, he could see the damage of what had happened. A scar ran the length from her anus to her urethra and there was nothing but scar tissue hidden beneath the soft folds of her lips. The babe must have been far too large for her small frame to handle. He leaned in, letting his breath hit the coarse hairs that surrounded her clit.

“Mmmm.” He hummed, leaning in a little and she squeaked. “You smell so good.”

It wasn’t a lie. She smelled like a woman ought to, but muted. She had bathed, likely in the morning, and her underthings hadn’t been worn for more than a day. Her clothes smelled of lavender soap and bluing, and it was a stark change from some of the women he had been with. When he kissed her folds, her thighs squeezed around him, and her soft middle met his forehead. It was surreal, how closing out the outside world seemed to quiet Eskel’s mind. Perhaps this was less of a burden for him than he initially thought.

He reached his hand up, so he could move her folds apart, and she moaned at just the touch.

His first taste of her was pleasant for him, it was soft, salty, and he could taste her arousal more then he could smell it. He could taste the blood beneath her skin as her clitoris, hidden in soft folds, budded against his tongue. He groaned in appreciation as she mewled, the sound coming out as a sob, and he felt her hands rest on his head.

He licked at her, using his tongue to tease her, but not letting her get too close to the edge. He had something special planned. He nuzzled, licked, and kissed, and nosed at her, trailing his tongue from her pucker to her clit in long waves that had her hips thrusting against him, and her mouth begging him prettily. Her husband was a fool for not taking advantage of this.

When she began to shudder, to break, held at the edge so long he could smell the tears in the air, he finally gave her something he knew she had never experienced before. He sucked on her clit, taking the bud into his mouth, and putting pressure on it, and flicking it with his tongue.

She screamed and he could feel her body seize beneath him. A small squirt of liquid burned against his tongue and though he knew what it was, he didn’t care. The woman had lost control, fallen apart, and he had given her a gift. Perhaps he was being a little bold in thinking that, but when he released her, her body fell back boneless. He ducked back under her legs and moved her underthings back into place. Probably not well, but it would work for now till she could adjust things to her own comfort. He was grinning when he pulled out from under her skirts and she was shaking, crying.

“That bad, eh?” She looked at him through teary eyes and then lunged forward, hugging herself to his armored chest.

“Oh you have given me something I had thought I lost!” She shuddered against him. Eskel gave her an awkward pat. “I couldn’t even stomach to touch myself for fear… for…”

“It’s a myth that all pleasure comes from the vagina, my lady.” He stated, as she pulls away from him. “Use your fingers, you don’t have to suffer as you have due to ignorance any longer.”

She nods and then looks up to him.

“What do you really need?” She asks. Eskel sighed at this.

“A truth you cannot give, I am afraid.” He says and she looks at him, her mouth closed in a tight line, her once flushed skin beginning to pale. He shakes his head softly and heads to the chest. It is organized, rather oddly, and he realizes that the disappearances are set in a portfolio separate from the deaths that come naturally in such a town. “However, you can give me some other things. You say the hunter has to follow lines?”

She nods, frowning a little, as Eskel sets out the papers and begins to move them to similar dates. It’s an easy task because everything is in numerical order anyway.

“These lines, you mean ropes, so he doesn’t get lost, because he is truly unable to form short term memories like that?”

“Yes, exactly!” She nods. “Oh thank goodness, I thought… it doesn’t matter. Yes, Eskel, he places ropes and lines. He extends them when he goes out on long trips, or if others join him, he depends on them to see him home.”

“Why is he still here?” Eskel asks, as he begins to separate the papers further, separating them into separate stacks within a year. He begins to see a pattern.

“We needed him.” She states. “He arrived, lost and confused, and we needed his skills. We have many hunters, but our old tanner died three summers past. With the king abandoning us and with trade scarce, we were in need of someone like him, who could keep us fed on game, when our own supplies ran short.”

“So what the alderman said, about being self-sufficient?”

“Not quite balderdash, but not the truth either.” She stated. “We seem well off because the king only wanted the burls of the trees. He left the lumber to us and we used it to rebuild our town, which had been dying for a long time before that. We survive because the king, in his selfishness, left piles of wood in those fields you see, trash, all to get the one thing he wanted.”

“Is it true then, what the hunter said of the man of the lumber company who died? He was found hanging?” Eskel asked, leaning up to examine the papers.

“Oh that bad luck, yes, yes it is.” She snarled at that. “Pure dumb luck and a man who had nothing to live for. The hunter found him and his body had been chewed on by squirrels.”

“So the monster didn’t take any part of him, even though he died in the woods, alone?” Eskel hummed, and he saw the woman stiffen. “A picky monster, with no patterns… hmmm.”

He looked at the papers and brought several fourth that had been from last year, around this time.

“You have several celebrations throughout the year, ones that don’t go by the elven calendar?” Eskel asked, looking at the papers and how close they were, mere days apart.

“Ah yes! A day from tomorrow we shall have our summer celebration.” She smiled fondly. “We do not take to the elven customs, as the filthy beasts are little more than fleas. Long lived and annoying. We Celebrate the heat of summer in mid-summer, we celebrate the harvest in mid-fall, we celebrate the game in the winter, and we celebrate the return of the gardens in mid-spring when most of the planting takes place.”

She looked at the papers and then back to Eskel, and she paled.

“Oh…” Her voice was a whisper, as Eskel gathered the papers back into a neat stack and placed them back in the portfolio.

“Mrs. Dondelinger,” He said and she winced at the use of her last name. “I am afraid our time here has come to a close. I appreciate all you have done and I wish you the best of luck.”

She nodded miserably.

“I ask something simple, say nothing.” He said and at this she scoffed.

“Do you think anyone wants anything to do with a woman who can’t keep her husband satisfied? Who can do little else than read, write, and grows fat?” She looked to him. “You will be a blessing to this place. The monster exists, Eskel, find it. Free us.”

Eskel nodded and he turned out of the library.

They were sacrificing people. A monster had ahold of the populace and they were feeding it. It was the only explanation. The monster had to be sentient and knew these people would be averse to elven cultures. Eskel narrowed it down even further. A monster, described as a horse or some such. A monster with the ability to effect what people saw. A monster which had the whole town under a curse. A curse Eskel could work with. A curse was known territory.

He smiled to himself as he trod down the road, moving toward the tavern now that it was past mid-day. Two more places to visit after he had lunch, which smelled good. He planned on using their hospitality to its fullest extent. Having a full stomach was making this far easier as he didn’t have to think about when, where, or how to cook his food.

When he stepped into the tavern all conversation stopped. He looked and saw the alderman, she stood up as he made his way to the bar and waved to Ashleigh.

“Any news?” She asked as Ashleigh frowned and went to the kitchen. “The town is abuzz that you went to the library. Spent a good amount of time there. Also saw you stalking the perimeter, find anything?”

“I detest meddling when I am in the middle of an investigation.” Eskel eyed her, she grew stiff and tensed under his gaze. “The Bear didn’t tell you he investigated anything and you act as if he didn’t, but I think he did. I think he figured it out. He went out to fight it and it felled him. But I am a Wolf witcher, and I will not go out unprepared. And I will not state anything about what I have found.”

The alderman looked at him rage crossing her features.

“Leave off Lizzy, leave him be.” Ashleigh swooped in and Eskel suddenly couldn’t help the feeling that this was choreographed. He laughed and Ashleigh gave him a strange look.

“I don’t need defending, it is simple.” Eskel looked to the alderman, who now smelled nervous. “You either want me here or you don’t. I could grab my stuff and leave…”

“No!”

“No, Eskel, you can’t!”

Both women protested at the same time. The women looked at each other and Eskel smirked.

“Lunch, please, and then I will continue my search. And I expect to be left alone.”

The alderman, cowed and cornered, backed off, and Ashleigh, wary of her own precarious perch, also stayed oddly silent. Lunch was delicious. A rich brothy soup with egg noodles and vegetables. He ate quickly and was served a second bowl, before he took off again.

His steps slowed a little, once he was closer to the town well. Just to be sure there wasn’t anything in the water, he pulled a bucket up, and took a sniff and a taste. It was minerally, but nothing strange here. He sighed, leaning on the well’s lip. He didn’t like this. He should have listened to the old woman warning him away from the contract. He should have listened to his gut and moved away from the path when he was given food. He should have ignored the pull of a bed, a bath, and a warm and pliant body.

Now he was stuck here and the longer he stayed the more uneasy he got. Perhaps he was being foolish. Or, more likely the case, he was feeling sorry for himself before he approached this town. Now that all his preconceived notions as to how people treated him were in stark relief, perhaps the world at large had always treated him like a freak. But now with his marred face, he felt like one. Perhaps this town didn’t give a damn because it was desperate, but it had given up hope and resigned itself to its fate. He looked around at the people, he could see two men gossiping and could hear them in hushed voices speaking of a gambling game. He could see one of the men’s wives eyeing him warily, likely knowing full well her husband was up to something. He saw a man, hauling a cart of wood with an ass that brayed hoarsely and looked like it had seen better days. He saw chickens scratching at the ground and he saw a cat lazily sunning itself on a rooftop while a child looked up at it longingly. Normalcy.

These people weren’t debited his suspicion. They had tried to be helpful. If anything, he had been cold to them. He was a witcher, after all, and he wasn’t supposed to get emotionally involved. But he was already involved wasn’t he? It wasn’t a love for the town or the people. No, he came into the town already emotional and it had bled into every action he took. But why should he have to be perfect, quiet, and calm? Because not being those things had landed him in trouble. It had netted him the scars that crossed his face and numbed it. It had pushed those he should care for away and those he shouldn’t took advantage. Damn it all.

There was a noise and a shout, followed by a loud bang. Several of the townspeople who were walking near the well moved towards the noise with concern. Eskel could smell blood on the wind and so he dashed forward. The town square was slowly filling with booths, chairs, tables, and a stage, which was being built. He looked around and saw a small crowd gathered and he knew immediately that’s where the smell of blood had come from. Once he pushed his way through the nosy townspeople, he sighed. Someone had been trying to build a pyre and it had collapsed down on itself, a young man sat on the ground next to it, holding a bloody rag to his leg where he had been cut open.

“Oi, Witcher! A little help!” He looked over to another man, who had what looked like a large spit he was trying to fix. Eskel shrugged and moved to help him.

“Planning on roasting a whole hog?” Eskel said, lifting the frame with ease and helping the man set the support within it.

“In a matter of speaking.” The man laughed and it was jovial. “Pigs and piglets, to a one. Joseph decided to not listen to me and his pile collapsed on his leg. Now he is out for the count for at least an hour.”

“Looked like a pretty bad cut.” Eskel said offhandedly, as the man began to attach the handle.

“Shin.” The man shrugged. “Bleeds bad, but shallow, I assure you. He will be back up shortly.”

“I heard the town was in a little bit of dire straits when it came to food, but it hasn’t seemed that way.” Eskel said, as the man began to hammer against the support pole.

“We make do, but yeah. Can’t get rid of the sheep, they give wool. Can’t get rid of the cows, they give milk. Can’t get rid of the oxen, they plough fields. Can’t get rid of the horses, they do everything else.” The man huffed and then grinned. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t feed our neighbors good meat a few times a year witcher. You shall likely be the guest of honor if you manage to solve our problem!”

Eskel chuckled.

“By the time I leave here, I will be fat with how well you keep feeding me now!” The man chuckled and looked at him appraisingly.

“Prefer lean myself, meat that is.” The man laughed and then laughed harder, nearly dropping his hammer in his mirth. “Thanks for the help witcher, I hope you figure it out, I would hate to see another life go to waste.”

Eskel waved to the man as he began to walk. Friendly, yeah. He shook his head softly and let his nose lead him to the bakery. He nearly stumbled into Mrs. Deberard’s house by mistake, but his nose eventually caught the smell of minced meat and the sweet, cloying scent of candied fruit led him to his destination.

He stepped into the door as another man stepped out, his hands laden with bread that smelled warm and buttery. A small bell rung above the door and a woman was at the counter. A woman, who had paled the instant she saw him.

Eskel decided to drop the act. Something about her smell, her reaction, was far more real than the others had been.

“I take it I am not the first witcher that has arrived at your door.”

She shook her head.

“Is your Papa home?” He asked, knowing who this girl was by how she reacted. She nodded and pointed him back to the kitchens. Eskel ducked around the counter and approached the man who was currently kneading dough.

“Took the Bear a week to make it here.” He stated, his voice calm and flat as he looked up to Eskel. “Surprised to see you the first day.”

“I am a trifle more personable than the Bear, but only just.” Eskel smirked a little, and the man swallowed and nodded his head shallowly.

“I already know something strange grips this place.” Eskel began. “So answer what you can and I will try to help.”

The man said nothing, just continued to knead his dough.

“Your boy, tell me about him.”

“He was seven, just coming into his personality and he was a little rapscallion.” The man’s expression turned soft and pained. “He loved animals, he would feed the birds the crumbs from the oven, and would try to steal fruit to give to the rabbits and hares. He was such a surprise to us when he arrived. My wife, bless her, had fallen down the embankment to the river. She had no idea she was pregnant. She did something to her spine and only held on long enough to make sure her boy saw himself into the world. He was a gentle boy, for the most part, but he disliked listening when people told him no. A typical boy, he would get into mischief with the other village children, but he wanted to be liked so bad he would do anything they said.”

“He disappeared in spring, last year, before the spring garden planting festival?” Eskel asked, and the man swallowed and nodded again. “What was he doing in the days that lead up to him disappearing?”

“He had begun to get listless and I thought he was ill.” The man said, then his face brightened a little. “But he perked back up, began to laugh again.”

“He didn’t before?” Eskel asked.

“When he was sick, he seemed to lose all coordination.” The man shook his head softly. “Then, for a few days, he grew so weak he couldn’t move. Then when he began to laugh again, he seemed to regain himself. We rarely get snow here and we had an early spring snowstorm. Him and the other kids were outside flinging bits of snow and ice at one another, when someone got the brilliant idea to put a group of rocks into a ball of snow, and have him throw it at the alderman’s house. I knew he was sorry, but that didn’t mean anything in the end. Two days later, he was gone.”

“That would be about three days before the festival.” Eskel hummed and the man nodded miserably. “What happens at these festivals?”

“The village comes out and we feast.” He said and the man’s heartbeat began to race. “There are games, and booths, and fires, and we praise the Holy Fire for keeping those of us who are still here safe.”

“Hmmm,” Eskel didn’t want to point out his strange wording. He could tell the man was trying to tell him something.

“We are obligated to go, it’s mandatory.” The man said and then looked away from Eskel, the sharp scent of regret hitting his nose. “I went and celebrated like the rest.”

“It upsets you that you did?” Eskel asked.

“I was a fool, I should have been watching him, but he went to the woods and no one, not even that new hunter could find a trace of him.” The man shook his head. “It was after that festival that the loggers left, ‘cause one of their own had hung himself and they thought… they…”

The man shook his head and looked to Eskel.

“You need to leave.” He stated, firmly.

“Two questions, and I will.” Eskel stated, his eyes glowing, and the man cowered. “One, why does the hunter not attend these festivals, he seems ignorant of them.”

“He is an outsider and has no place.” The man stated. “We commission him to leave so we can celebrate with those who understand.”

Eskel frowned at that.

“And someone said I would be a guest of honor?” Eskel mused.

“You will be,” The man nodded, looking to Eskel fiercely. “Mark my words witcher, you should leave. Turn around, remove yourself.”

“Strange words.”

“Papa, let me speak with him.” The girl from the front counter had walked in. The man looked to Eskel, sighed, and nodded.

The girl walked past Eskel with a basket and led him to the alleyway behind the bakery.

“Witcher, I have to ask. What is Evil?” She said, handing him the basket as soon as the door shut.

“It’s a matter of perspective.” Eskel said cryptically, taking the basket in hand.

“Perspective is important, but there are universal signs of Evil, witcher.” She stated. “What of someone who takes glee in torturing animals, watching as they die with pleasure in their eyes?”

Eskel said nothing and the girl continued.

“What of someone who approaches someone and rips at their hair, and pushes them down, for nothing other than to feel more powerful?” She asked.

Eskel said nothing again, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“What of a man who kills another?” She raised her chin at him, Eskel still said nothing, but he could feel her frustration boiling.

“Evil, as you say, is a matter of perspective.” She stated. “Evil gets punished. We vanquish it. My brother disappeared because he was Evil.”

“Your father didn’t think so.” Eskel stated, his voice even, giving away nothing.

“My father wanted a son more than anything.” She stated. “His son didn’t exist.”

“You are saying that the girl who is pregnant was evil?” Eskel asked and the girl flinched.

“She was a whore and a harlot.”

“That is not evil, evil is foisting your beliefs on someone, simply because they live outside your realm of understanding.” Eskel stated, looking at the girl. “I have looked evil in the eyes and I see it everywhere. I see it in the most innocent of children who play in the streets. I see it in the old nans who gossip by fences. I see it in kings, and paupers, and learned men. The potential is there in everyone, no matter how great or how brow beaten. Tell me, why was your brother Evil?”

“He killed animals, killed the neighbor’s dog. He would run around, shouting at the girls in town, lifting their skirts, and calling them foul names. He would…”

“And where did he learn such names?” Eskel crossed his arms. The young woman faltered.

“Evil, is not only a matter of perspective, but a reflection of things learned.” Eskel stated, turning his back. “If you have nothing else to say…”

The girl said nothing and Eskel walked away from her. Her story was familiar. Blaming the victim, because blaming the actual problem would bring about far more trouble. The boy was troubled and he likely learned his behavior from his father. The boy’s mother, who had been pregnant, had likely hidden it and tried to run. He could see it play out clearly. A sacrifice to get the thing the man wanted most. It was a common story, far more common than Eskel wanted to think about.

But now it was getting even stranger. He looked into the basket and found it laden with tarts, sweet rolls, and small cookies. Another offering of food, and yet, Eskel didn’t feel like this was meant for him. He could have eaten it surely, but he was still more then satisfied because of lunch. Sighing and cursing the awkwardness of the basket in his hand, he stepped out into the main thoroughfare to watch the setup of the stage and the pyres. He was looking for something he couldn’t see. Watching people who spoke merrily and tried to ignore him. All except one, who was determined to make an absolute nuisance of herself.

“I see you have made it to the bakery.” The alderman approached him again, smiling. She was smiling, yet her scent was strange, she was perfumed, and it was befuddling his nose.

“Yeah, not for me though.” Eskel decided to risk it, only a little. “Heard that the ladies of Jamulet can be plied with fresh tarts.”

At this the alderman looked confused and raised a brow. Now this, this was interesting. She looked panicked, smelled panicked. There was something they were hiding then.

“Surely you don’t think they have anything to do with this?” She grabbed his arm, but not harshly. “Lady Irene is ill and suffers from ill spirits. But she is a good woman, so is her daughter. Her husband was the smith before-”

Eskel breathed in slowly, taking in her scent. This time it came through and only radiated concern.

“I am immune to disease,” He looked to the alderman who had stepped back from him letting go of his arm. “Whatever ill humors possesses Lady Irene will not possess me, of that you can be sure of. I am doing this as a favor, for the girl at the bakeshop.”

“Oh… Oh!” The Alderman’s face seemed to relax.

“I think after I pay them a visit, I will prepare for what I need to do tomorrow.” Eskel looked back to the men, who were laughing and talking about the food they hoped to eat at the festival the next day. “After all, I have heard much of your summer celebration now and the idea of a big meal is a heady motivator.”

“Ah yes, this year’s pigs and piglets have gotten quite fat.” She smiles, it’s genuine and filled with true excitement. “To watch their skin crack and to have that first bite of cheek and brain, it is a delight.”

“But now I have another issue,” Eskel grinned and the alderman looked away. “The girl was in such haste to give me the tarts that she neglected to point me in the direction of the Jamulet household. Would you be so kind?”

The alderman nodded and smiled again, mirroring his expression.

“Two blocks south and three blocks north, almost to the edge of town. Their house is not in the best of repair, but it is tidy. It needs a fresh coat of whitewash and its thatch needs to be replaced. It is also cordoned off with warnings.”

Eskel nodded, just as someone came up. The man, rather non-descript and covered with sawdust nodded to Eskel politely, and then began to speak at a rapid pace to the alderman about a problem which had come up.

“Ah, duty calls, witcher.” She sighed, “I will see you this evening at the Swan’s Song yes?”

“Likely.” Eskel lied.

On his way to the Jamulet house, Eskel made a point to stop a few of the town’s citizens along his path. He asked them questions about the disappearances. Simple ones, ones he didn’t necessarily need the answers to, but ones that would have whoever he spoke to scurrying back to the alderman to inform on him.

Another pattern began to emerge. Dates were wrong. People were wrong, and no one mentioned the hunter, at all. The hunter, who had to have rope tied on his hunting lines so he wouldn’t get lost. When he asked about the previous disappearances, they all were stout in their belief that something was lurking in the woods. But normal monsters didn’t choose dates. Specifically dates around celebrations that the town itself held. The implication was growing clearer that this monster, whatever it was, was sentient and was likely at the heart of the decisions to hold the celebrations themselves. Possibly even hiding in plain sight.

Eskel felt his stomach drop out at that thought. Sylvans were known to do such things, manipulate towns into giving them things. Just a few years ago, Geralt delt with one who had manipulated a town into giving a sacrifice of grain and the like. They weren’t known for their cruelty, but they could learn it from somewhere, or be twisted by something. But then there were also vampires and they could hide in plain sight, at least some. And the ones that could were not ones Eskel was prepared to deal with alone. With that unsettling thought lodged firmly in his head, he continued onwards.

When he arrived at the house in question, it was very obvious that this family had not been given the same leeway as the others when it came to use of new lumber for repairs. While their house still stood, Eskel could see the patchwork of mended planks, a roof that had a tarp on it, and a fence that wouldn’t have kept even the most stupid goat at bay. When he went to open the gate, it tilted halfway off its hinges, and made a noise akin to a banshee’s scream.

The smell of the place hit him next. There was human and animal feces littered about the property, mostly in a pile by a tree that had likely died due to the influx of human refuse piled at its roots. He wrinkled his nose, but he smelled that familiar smell again, the one he couldn’t pinpoint. But this? This was strong. The smell was sickly sweet and rotten, like a bloody flux would be.

“Please sir, you have to have seen the signs, this place is one of sickness, you must be away.” A voice called out and then laughter, booming and strange, echoed through the modestly sized bungalow. Eskel tilted his head and looked to the door, which was cracked and a set of hazel eyes peaked out. “Leave this place.”

“I come bearing tarts and baked goods for the household.” Eskel called, watching as the eyes widened, and he could smell the scent of hunger. “I am a witcher, I won’t catch whatever flux ails you.”

The woman moved to open the door and Eskel approached.

“I don’t know who you are, good sir, but I give you thanks.” She stated, her voice shaky and her eyes wet with tears.

“You are most welcome, Irene?” Eskel bowed a little, and the woman, looked shaken once again.

“My Grandmama.” She said. “Oh no, you aren’t here to…”

“No, my goal is to figure out what’s wrong.”

“I don’t believe you!” Eskel was met on the nose by the door. He didn’t howl, or curse, or anything. He was dumbfounded and then slightly panicked as he realized blood was pouring out of his face. Then the pain kicked in and though his mutations caught most of it, it was dizzying. It was also oddly comforting in a way that made all the tension of this contract bleed out of him, seemingly from his nose. He quickly sat on the crooked stairs of the house and tilted his head back against the support post. He could hear the girl silently sobbing behind the door, but his nose needed to be handled first.

_First rule of nosebleeds as a witcher, now pay attention. Tilt your head and close your throat. Count to 120, hawk the clot out, and continue this until the bleed stops. If you don’t do this, as soon as you are able, you could be putting yourself in danger, as a lodged clot in your nose will limit your sense of smell._

He spit out the first clot and the noise caused the women inside the door to sob louder.

“Just go, please, I promise she is not in the middle of this.” She called out and Eskel felt pity twist at his innards. “Please, the Bear came here too, and he… and he…”

“He what?” Eskel’s voice was gravely as he tried to hide the fact that he was in pain. He reached his hands to his nose and letting go of a shaky breath, set it with a sickening crunch.

“He killed my Opa!” The girl howled. “He killed him because he said that Oma was sick and that he needed to clear it out!”

That sounded like a Bear thing. Going after the symptom and not the problem. Eskel cursed the Bear now for the first time.

“We chased him out of town. Chased him out of town and he turned into a piggy, just like the rest.”

Those words, in an instant, narrowed the list to a final two. A fae or a sorcerer. Eskel laughed and then spit out the next clot of blood.

“It’s not your Oma that is the cause, my lady.” Eskel stated, trying to control his laugher so he wouldn’t choke himself with his blood. “She is the symptom. She is ill because of this curse, whatever this is, and unlike the Bears, who take a ‘Hit it first, and see if it helps’ sort of path. I am a Wolf school witcher. We study, we learn, and only once we are sure do we go in for a kill.”

“How can I believe you?” She hissed through the door, her sobs growing less harsh.

“Well, I brought you tarts?” Eskel’s voice rose in question and spat again. “You also broke my nose and I didn’t break down your door. I would say after a hit like that, anyone else would be howling to get at you if they wanted to see your Oma from this world.”

The door swung open and slammed on the interior wall, the girl was on her knees looking at Eskel wide eyed.

“Oma! Oma what do I do!” The girl was scrambling to Eskel and with her long, emaciated limbs she looked rather like a kikimora. That was a visual he didn’t need at the moment. 

A long, loud bout of laughter filled the house and through it Eskel could hear words.

“Grab the pot… HAH AHHAHA… the one… HAHEE On the stove now…” The woman’s laugh turned into a rattling coughing fit, as the girl scrambled upright, wiping her nose and eyes, and then darted into the house. “Get the… HAHAHHA Oh no… Get the rag, the good one girl HA! Oh my stars. Now get it wet, not the whole thing… OH HAHAHHAHO! Or you’ll boil your fingers like a sausage.”

The woman inside began to cough again. He heard a groan, then the woman answered and her voice had changed.

“That’s it lassie, you got it.” She was soft spoken now and Eskel felt his eyes widen in confusion. “Yes, perfect, now go, and help the good witcher clean up. Then bring him here. Wipe your eyes a little and freshen your face.”

Eskel frowned and spit out another clot, this one smaller. The bleeding was finally stopping.

“I am so sorry,” The girl reappeared, holding the rag. “I didn’t realize I had…”

Her hand was shaking as she moved it towards his face. But he let her tap the rag softly and tend to his flesh which was now swollen, bruised, and likely a very vile sight on top of his scars. He couldn’t fault her though and it was his own stupidity that caught him unaware. Eskel, the sturdiest of the Wolf school witchers, taken out by a young girl and a door. It would be just his luck and he smiled a little.

“My own fault for having my face so close to the door.” Eskel murmured and then reached for the basket. “Wasn’t lying, you can look inside.”

“Only after I have you cleaned up. Oh, your poor tunic.” She ran the cloth along his neck, and Eskel sat very still, letting her do so, and trying not to squirm away.

“Happens.” Eskel murmured as she dabbed at it, getting the worst of the blood off. “Hazard of the job really.”

The girl smiled a little and Eskel smiled back.

“He should be good and tended now.” The old woman inside spoke. “Bring him in, show him to me, and set out plates and milk for us.”

When he stepped inside, holding the damp rag to his nose, he felt instantly foolish and fully humbled. The door quickly closed and Eskel took in what he saw. It was neat and clean. The smell from outside did not follow inside. The only scents he could smell were the girl, her grandmother, something cooking on the stove that smelled far too weak, and the smell of urine. He frowned at the last.

“Let him wait in the hall and help me clean up.” The grandmother said. “I will not be talking to our guest in freshly pissed… hehehe. Sheets.”

“I can help.” Eskel offered.

“You will do no such thing!” The woman barked back. “I have been humiliated enough for a thousand lifetimes and I will not suffer the humiliation of a witcher changing my pissed sheets and bedclothes.”

The girl gave him an apologetic look and slipped into the room. There was no door, so Eskel instead strayed to the kitchen. The soup was pathetic. A boiled bone in water. He reached into his pack on his belt and placed several strips of meat in it. He saw some carrots and an onion that had been cut already but abandoned, and he decided that he would help dinner along for these two. He had fried the onions, carrots, and he found a beet that had somehow managed to escape to the floor, and a few radishes that were much the same. They had dust on them, so they had been down there for a while, but while a little dry, they didn’t smell spoiled. He cut them up and tossed them in the frying pan with the caramelized onions, then looked into the soup pot. It was literally just jerky, which was swiftly turning mushy, in water. Frowning, he took the bone out of the water with some tongs and realized that the bone itself hadn’t been cracked open. Grinning, he set it on the table, with a single harsh punch and a now minorly burned hand, the bloody innards of the bone were exposed, alongside the marrow. He tipped some of the water out into the pan with the onions and then tipped the rest into a basin which could be used later. Then he added all the ingredients to the soup cauldron and grabbed the basket the girl had left in the hallway. He sifted through it and scowled. While the sweets were fresh, the bread was anything but. He knocked a loaf on the table and then grinned to himself.

The girl came back as he was loading the last of the salt he had on him into the soup.

“What are you doing!?” The girl screeched.

“Your soup, it was weak,” Eskel shrugged. “Saw it wanting and fixed it. Looked like I interrupted you making dinner. Both you and your Oma smell of malnutrition, you need salt. This is all I had, but it should be enough to make something palatable.”

“The bone?”

“Still in there, though you can’t see it now with how thick it’s gotten. Cracked it open so the marrow could get in. May need to add more water.” He grabbed the water he set aside, poured a generous amount into it, and dipped a finger into it. “Now this, this is eatable. But you need to let it set for an hour or two, let’s say we see your Oma and dig into those tarts.”

The girl nodded mutely, looking at Eskel with an expression that Eskel had no name for. He shook his head as the girl led him to her grandmother’s bedside.

“And here he is.” The woman, chuckled a little, but she winced while doing so. “A pleasure, as you have cooked in my kitchen instead of killing my husband, I have to say you are a league far better than the last witcher that graced this place.”

Eskel sat on a chair that looked like it had seen better days and it creaked a little under his weight.

“I am here to break whatever spell holds this town.” The woman burst out laughing and then it turned into sobs. The girl moved to sit on the bedside and stroked the emaciated frame of the woman.

“You are a fool, just like the rest.” She got ahold of herself and her eyes turned more lucid. The changes were so quick, Eskel could barely keep up, but he sat stoically, looking to the old woman with sallow skin and sunken eyes. “I have pneumonia. I will not be long for this world witcher, so believe me when I tell you, what is here is not what you expect. A monster haunts the woods, wearing the skins of those who have called this place home. It stares at you with its eyes and then it changes, teeth and horns and hooves and bellows until all you can see is the red triangle.”

“Oma…”

“You have seen it?” Eskel leaned forward. “You know what it is.”

The woman tried to sit up straighter, but failed and instead put her piercing gaze on him.

“It is the beast, the sin we all carry come to life.” She stated and her scent said that it was true. “What it doesn’t eat, it turns back, and we feast on the sour pigs and piglets to show we too have a choice in destroying the sin which threatens to eat us through. Hahhahahha, oh, not again. It watches us, it knows. It hungers and the witcher before you, he sinned. He killed my husband for nothing, and he went to the woods and came back a piglet just like the rest. His skin pink and sour.”

“Oma!”

“All of them will see it, they will understand.” Eskel watched as the girl’s face began to fall as the woman laughed again and began to sing.

“The old hen she cackled, she cackled, she cackled, the old hen she cackled and the rooster laid an egg.” Eskel felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “The old hen she cackled, she cackled on the fence, Ha ha! The next time she cackled, she cackled in the pot. The old hen she cackled and she hasn’t cackled since.”

Eskel didn’t get to share in the tarts. He was far too shaken. 

The woman fell into a laughing fit after that, which saw her into a croupy coughing fit, and she passed out before he could get anything more out of her.

“You should leave,” The girl said, cleaning up the spit burbling from the crone’s bubbling throat. “You should leave witcher, you are kind, and they… they will not like it. You will not like it.”

“I have a job and I will see it through.” Eskel said, turning out of the house, not giving the girl a chance to convince him.

Now he wanted to run. He wanted to run and he could run. This was his last chance. He could turn away, turn away from this town that was so fucked up, but so nice he couldn’t understand it. The sun was now beginning its descent and Eskel needed to prepare. He needed to do something with himself so he didn’t turn yellow and run.

He had two days. Two days and he could be done with this place. He would have to move, have to hunt tonight if he wanted to avoid whatever ceremony they were preparing for. When he arrived in the square it was full of people laughing, carrying on, and some smaller fires had been built. Someone had brought out a symphonia and its drone was as grating on Eskel’s ears as a mosquito’s buzz. It was hot, too hot, but Eskel felt cold.

His amulet sat still and silent on his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAN I AM SO STOKED ABOUT THIS FIC YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW.
> 
> I love comments and such so feel free!!!


	3. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ekskel goes on his hunt, and learns the truth of what is happening in the village

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter begins the dead dove in earnest. I AM BOTH SO SORRY AND SO LOOKING FORWARD TO REACTIONS.

When he arrived at the Swan’s Song, Ashleigh’s eyes lit up. Then she frowned. She abandoned her rag and approached him at a concerned pace.

“What happened?”

“Investigating.” He sneered, her scent had long since soured to him. Made him want to vomit. “I need water and vodka, and if you have it, salt.”

“Eskel, please, what ha-“

“Now!” Eskel slammed his fist down on the bar hard enough that it cracked. His eyes were wild and glowing, and finally, _FINALLY_ the whole rooms scent turned to the terror it was supposed to be when they saw witchers. Everything grew silent as he pushed through the crowd to the door that led to the garden and inn. When he arrived in his room, as he expected, he could smell that Ashleigh, the alderman, and several others had been in it.

He checked around for anything missing and found nothing. He growled and began to prepare his potions and his oils. Relict oil, fae oil, and hanged man’s venom. It had to be either a clever fiend, a fae, or a mage. He needed to hunt it and hunt it now, so he could get out of this hellhole. This strange saccharine place that held rot beneath the new timbers it boasted.

The sound of hesitating feet outside hailed the timid knock at his door.

“Enter.” Eskel put malice into his voice, not just his normal one, but in the subharmonics he could use alongside all the other witchers to put things at ill ease.

“I… brought you what you… you are leaving?”

“I hunt.”

Her face twisted, anger racing across her features. Her skin flushed and her knuckles turned white as she stomped into his room, her footsteps mirroring the pounding headache that was settling behind Eskel’s eyes.

“You can’t just barge into my bar and-”

Eskel had moved his hands, the sign of Axii hidden as he turned. Her eyes dulled and she wavered on her feet. His magic was the strongest of his brothers. His Axii is more than a simple Axii, more than just a way to suggest someone to do something. He watches, waiting until the spell takes hold and then he spoke.

“Tell me the truth about what happens.”

Her face turned dopy as a smile crossed her face.

“The pigs go in, the pigs come out. Nuckelavee snorts and turns about. He eats what he can, to the town the pigs ran, and alderman cooks them from trotters to snout.”

“Magic then? They change the men?”

“Pigs are pigs. Men are men. Evil is Evil, and Evil can only be consumed by goodness.”

It’s not helpful. Not in the least. Eskel growled and twists the Axii. The girl stiffened and he knows if he pushes it too far she will be killed, but it doesn’t matter.

“Enough with the riddles.” Eskel watches as she swoons, her eyes rolling. “What happens to those in the woods?”

“No one knows but the bones.”

He knows he won’t get anything out of her, he sighs and frowns.

“You will go back to your bar. You will be afraid of me because I know something. I know where the monster is, I know where I shall kill it. You will tell them and you will be beside yourself with fear if they so much as threaten me or my horse.”

The girl nods and turns.

He lets the Axii linger so it’s effects last until the magic clears her system.

He is alone.

He packs up his things, empties his bladder, and sets out.

The tavern quiets and Ashleigh is in the arms of the Alderman, tears pouring out of her eyes, and sniveling. The Alderman looks to Eskel and for the first time, there is fear in her eyes. This time, this one time, he finally takes in the scent of fear and he revels in it.

It’s normal.

He is hunting, the populace fears him, balance returns.

He stalked out of the tavern and went straight to the stables. The sleepy stable hand took one hard look at Eskel and flinched, shrinking in on himself.

Eskel puts his saddlebags on his horse.

“One hair harmed on her mane and you are a dead man.” The stable hand nods and Eskel can smell urine.

Good.

Now he sets everything aside and thinks on the knowledge he’s gathered. He knows one thing above all else - the hunter uses ropes. If this creature exists, then the towns folk wouldn’t want the hunter wandering into it by accident. He moves swiftly, unlocking his mutations in full, and circles around the village. He finds them. Ropes and paths leading through the woods. He ignores them. When he reaches the southeast edge, there is a gap. He finds ropes on either side, traveling away from the gap.

This is where he must go.

He steps into the woods as the sun sets behind his back and he begins to move further into the woods. He travels for twenty minutes, moving in a zigzag and finding the barriers the guide ropes make. He listens, hears nothing but bird song and the croak of toads, and he kneels.

He meditates, listening to the woods around him, listening for signs of people following him. There is nothing. When the moon rises and the humid air begins to cool, he opens his eyes and looks to the woods. They are thick, filled with hardwoods and deciduous trees which leave the forest floor covered in leaf litter. Now to track the beast.

He coats his silver blade in the oils and he stands, sniffing the air. He takes a cat potion and the world, which was already clear, becomes brighter and more detailed. He sees the animals moving, he sees the paths they have tread in the leaf litter. He begins to move deeper into the woods. He walks silently over the leaf litter and the animals around him seem to sense that he means them no harm as they pass by him without even acknowledging he exists.

He is going to find this creature and he is going to rend it. The only thing recognizable will be its head.

He is walking for about a half hour when he begins to see a pattern. There is a space, which is beginning to fan out, where the forest creatures avoid. Eskel looks around for tracks as he walks. He hits paydirt when he sees three fresh sets of footprints left in a single raw patch of earth in the underbrush. Human, young. Running. Not a good sign.

He sees another set of footprints - heavier and with a limping gait. He frowns and looks around the underbrush where he spots several broken branches in a bramble bush and old dried blood. Whoever was running was panicked.

_The old hen she cackled, she cackled on the fence._

The song is there now, sung by that woman, a song his mother had sung to him before he was taken away. He thought he had burned it out of his mind, but the memory begins to return full force as he follows the broken footprints on instinct.

_His mother is angry, angry because he said something foolish. She sits with tears in her eyes and his father looks to him, equally as wounded._

_“Son, what you did today, it wasn’t right.” His father stares at him and he wilts under his gaze. “It is no one’s business if your mother can’t have any more children. No one but hers.”_

_“I am sorry, papa.” Tears come to his eyes. How could he be so stupid? He just wanted to fit in, to not be little anymore. Why did he do it?_

_“It is your mother you should apologize to Eskel.” His father moves and Eskel is moving too. He flies over to his mother who is sitting on a bench inside the yurt. He sobs._

_“I am sorry mama! I am so sorry!” He wails, his voice shrill in his own ears._

_He is scared, scared that he did something so terrible he would be taken to an orphanage. Why would they need a kid like him? He was useless. He was small, he could only help cook, and even that was a disaster. He waits an eternity and his mother’s sobs begin to quiet. He feels his mother’s breath and then she wraps her arms around him. Her arms are warm and her breath against his hair is a soothing balm. When she begins, her voice is shaky, but gains strength as he listens to her sing._

_“The old hen she cackled,_

_She cackled in the lot_

_The next time she cackled,_

_She cackled in the pot._

_The old hen she cackled._

_She cackled and she cooed._

_The next time she cackled,_

_The rooster cackled, too._

_The old hen she cackled,_

_She cackled in the stable._

_The next time she cackled,_

_She cackled on the table._

_The old hen she cackled,_

_The rooster laid an egg”_

_The song she sings seems lighthearted, cheery sounding even. He looks up at her through tear-stained eyes._

_“The rooster laid an egg?” He asks and his mother’s laughter bursts through him like a thousand butterflies._

_“It’s a warning, to little boys and girls.” His mother states. “The hen is gossiping. She is gossiping loudly, and eventually, her gossiping gets her in trouble.”_

_“They eat her?” Eskel asks, suddenly feeling badly for the hen._

_“In the song yes, but it’s a fable, it tells us to not spread gossip or we will be noticed and eventually it will come back to bite us.” She smiles warmly. “And the rooster, he joins in, he listens to her, and starts gossiping too. When the hen is eaten, he is so afraid he lays an egg.”_

_“Sad story.” Eskel’s lower lip quivered._

_“It’s a lesson, my Eskel - don’t do anything to others you wouldn’t want done to yourself.” She hugs him again and for a moment…all is right with the world._

He can feel fresh tears in his eyes and he hates it. He hates it because this town, this stupid town, was a temptation. To feel wanted, to feel loved. To be the hero. To ignore the rules for once and just do what he wanted, and everything was a joke. A simple, stupid, magically created joke meant to lure in stupid people to feed to a monster that lurks in the woods.

He was so focused on himself, he lost track of where he was, lost track of his job. He was a witcher and he was failing at it. A soft snore and a groan from an animal far larger than it had any right to be met his ears.

When he finally gets a grip on himself, he finds himself standing in a ruin. He can smell blood and sees a shoe…then a leg which is rotting in the fetid leaves. He comes back to himself when he hears something sniffing. Shit! He is downwind!

He quickly hides behind a broken pillar when he hears the creature yawn and stretch. Gods, he was so close and he didn’t even register it.

Its teeth clack together and it makes Eskel jump.

He is too close! He is too close and now the creature is stirring and he can’t move! He peeks around the corner and he sees three glowing eyes looking around sleepily. His own eyes widen. The triangle! Irene, the old woman who had brought his buried memories to bare, had seen it! How had she survived?

The fiend is huge. He can hear it rustling and the sound of something metallic as it shifts. When he takes a peek again, he looks at the creature’s horns and its graying mane and muzzle. The creature is old, very old. It is thin and looks as if it is full of parasites. The fiend is lazily sitting on its haunches, its tail weaving back and forth, as its tuft hits the ground with small pats that disturb the scattered leaf litter. The creature yawns again and Eskel can see its teeth. Most are broken or decayed, a death sentence for a fiend. And yet…

Eskel started looking around at the environment. Something was off. His amulet was vibrating faintly, far too faintly for the size and age of the fiend that sat on its haunches in front of him. Eskel took a glance at the clearing where the fiend sat and saw that the dirt had been dug at. Dug at with dull fingers. He looked back to the fiend, his eyes narrowing. Then he saw it, the explanation for why he saw dull marks in the dirt as opposed to sharp ones. The fiend had no claws! The tip of each digit had been cut off, leaving blunt nubs. Who the hell would have been able to subdue the beast long enough to perform that particularly horrendous surgery was beyond him. 

Eskel was lost in his pondering when he saw a glint of metal hidden in the fiend’s hind leg fur. The fiend took that moment to move and stood up, stretching its emaciated, but huge body. With a limping gait, it walked over to a corner filled with refuse and began to empty its bladder. Something clinked as it was dragged behind it. It was a chain.

Someone had chained the beast.

Knowing that his potions stank to high heaven, Eskel used the creature’s moment of distraction to take them. Another dose of cat and thunderbolt painfully raked through his system, sharpening his keen senses even further, and made him utter a low growl. The creature noticed and as Eskel stepped forward, the creature’s eyes turned to him. Now Eskel’s amulet was truly vibrating. He held the creature’s gaze, waiting for it to attempt its hypnosis. He felt the air around him shift and knew it was coming.

_You are not the first._

Eskel startled. He had fought fiends many times before, each time had gone much the same. Feral beasts, drunk on humanity, their third eye would cast a hallucination, make everything seem dark and foggy. But the darkness didn’t come. Instead a voice spoke to him and it echoed in his head. Eskel felt panic building inside him. Fiends were _not_ supposed to talk!

_You are not the first, but the last one…_

“You ate him.”

The creature went over to where it had been sleeping and lay down once more. Eskel drew his sword and the creature didn’t flinch.

_Do it hunter, I long to be rid of this hell._

Eskel flinched.

“You are chained.” Eskel frowned, stepping through the archway and closer to the fiend.

_You are observant, far more so than the last of your kind who entered here. I am chained and I was chained here by a man of your ilk so long ago I cannot count the seasons that have passed._

A witcher did this? Eskel frowned. “What do you mean, another of my ilk?”

_A hunter with fierce eyes and a slithering one where your howling one sits._

A Viper? Eskel had only begun to hear of the vipers in the last forty years or so. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He needed to focus on the problem at hand.

“How are you speaking to me?” Eskel asked as he lowered his sword.

 _I am not, I am putting my thoughts into your head through the eye of…”_ The next word was a garbled mess, but Eskel guessed it must have been the creature’s name for its abilities. _My eye, it sees you, sees your intent. You are curious like a kit. You fight to save a town, a town that needs not saving. I cannot see all, I cannot see what you fear and I cannot wound you like this._

“Why should I trust any word you say?”

 _I know you have come here to slay me and I mean to let you do it._ The creature yawned and put its head down wearily, baring its neck like a man on the executioner’s chopping block. _I wished, years ago, that I would be able to escape, and see my wrath put upon my jailers, but now, I am just tired. Come hunter, do what you need to do._

Eskel decided that this creature, while still dangerous and reeking of rotten, fetid blood, was far less a threat than another of his own kin, so he approached the creature. The fiend’s ear flicked lazily as its eyes watched him approach almost lazily.

“Do you eat those they send?”

 _I eat one and the rest I send to the cave._ The creature huffed, not unlike a horse. _After one I am ill, the blood of men does not sit well with my kind and only those who have lost their souls to rage seek your kin. They give me game, just enough that I do not die, just enough to keep me weak and docile._

The hunter! They needed the hunter to keep this beast and the village fed! There was more than enough meat to go around, otherwise the tavern wouldn’t have served that thick mutton stew. Eskel shook his head as more of the pieces began to fall into place.

“You want to kill them.” The fiend’s eyes captured Eskel’s again as it huffed. “I want to know why they send people to you, what kind of sorcerer has them under their sway.”

 _The hunter that captured me is long dead._ The fiend raised its head as Eskel drew nearer. _There is no magic here which drives them, but I can hear the screams from the cave when I send the others away._

Eskel hesitated and looked to the chain binding the fiend. It was a ship’s anchor chain and he could feel the strangeness of the metal with his own magic. Dimeritum, it had to be. Eskel looked to the creature and studied it. If he was able to speak magically, through the magic dampening of the cuff, he was facing not just a normal fiend, but one unlike any other he had ever faced before.

“If I free you, what would you do?”

 _I will kill them._ The creature’s eyes pulsed with malice. _I will crush their skulls beneath my hooves and impale their weak bodies on my horns and wear their skeletons as a crown._

“I need to understand what is going on.” Eskel pleaded and the creature huffed, setting its head down once again, the malice fading from its eyes and leaving a bone deep weariness in its wake. “I was contracted to solve the disappearances in the woods. I need to do this to get paid, so I can leave and never set foot here again.”

 _I know not what drives them._ The monster answered. _Nor do I care. If you free me, I will take you to the cave. If you do not wish to free me, then dispatch me._

“And if I find there that there is a source? One that we can dispose of that holds this town and its people?” The fiend raised its head once more, tail twisting behind it, and clawless fingers digging into the dirt.

 _You ask for help._ The beast raised up and for the first time Eskel realized how truly large it was. _I will never regain my strength, my mate is long dead, my kits dust in the wind. Besides my freedom, which I could do without, which your own sense of justice is demanding of you to release me, I want little else. I do not collect baubles, I have no use for anything a human could give me._

Eskel faltered for a moment, then he thought about the world from an animal’s perspective.

“The woods are full of game,” Eskel said and at this the creature’s eyes brightened. “There are no other monsters nearby and you would scare any wolves out of here. You would have a territory of your own. Game to hunt. A forest which no human will touch for years to come, so long as you keep out of the village.”

The creature growled, deep and low, finally standing to its full height. The sound radiating out of the creature began to increase and alongside it, Eskel’s amulet began to jump. The fiend began to pace back and forth, its eyes leaving Eskel and its voice leaving him as well. The sound of the chain dragging through the leaves and pine needles was the only sound it made. The creature turned fast and fierce, looking to Eskel once more. Its eyes pulsed and Eskel’s amulet began to burn bright against his chest.

 _I will take your offer, hunter._ It said and Eskel felt relief wash over him, then he felt something he rarely experienced, he felt powerful. 

Eskel knew he was tempting fate with this course of action, but the fiend knew where the cave was, where the screams had come from. The fiend’s teeth were jagged and broken, its claws long removed, and Eskel had his sword at the ready. The fiend was still strong enough to overpower him, but Eskel had the advantage of poison and training. He also, like it or not, had a connection to creatures large and small. He felt empathy for the beast which lay in the rotting corpses of victims it had no interest in and its own waste. This was no way for a creature to live.

He walked over to look to the lock around the creature’s leg and saw just how cruel the mechanism was for himself. There wasn’t a keyhole, just a simple press mechanism which would have been impossible for the creature itself to get off. When Eskel pressed the lock and it jumped in its release, the fiend pulled and made a low, pained noise; only then did the true wickedness of the cuff become apparent. As the creature pulled itself free spikes became visible, spikes which had grown into his skin came out of scarred and puckered flesh. When the cuff dropped to the ground, the fiend whirled on him. It screamed in agony and there was a magic blast so fierce the only thing Eskel could do was shield his eyes before he knew nothing more.

_Hunter, you must wake, we have little time._

The voice sounded maternal, almost fond. He felt something wet move against his skin and he began to stir out of the blackness. When he awoke, he was warm, sweaty, and he stank. He groaned as he slowly remembered what had happened and shielded his eyes against the light. How was he alive? Another lick from a coarse tongue as large as a cow ran across his scarred face. He opened his eyes and all he could see was a snout and horns. He was so confused.

Looking around, he only now realized he was laying in-between the fiend’s front legs like a kit. He sat perfectly still, panicked that the creature, now that it was free, would finish him off. He saw the fiend’s eyes flash, now a brilliant blue instead of the sickly red.

_You are awake._

“What… happened?” Eskel felt ill.

 _My magic, it is back, and now I can use my eye how it is meant to be used, as a tool._ The creature said licking his face again, which made Eskel reach up and put a hand on its rather soft nose to push it away. The creature’s voice was clear as a spring in Eskel’s head now. _The force of it and my howl, paralyzed you, and you are poisoned. Your eyes are black and your skin is far warmer than it should be._

Eskel groaned and reached for his belt, and was surprised to feel that nothing had happened to his potions. He quickly grabbed a white honey and drank it down greedily, while the fiend watched.

“Gonna take a while to work,” Eskel husked and looked around. The sky was golden and strange. “The sun come up?”

_You were asleep for the day, the sun is setting now, and we have no time. Voices have been coming from the woods, and they gather about the cave._

“Let’s move then.” Eskel said and forced his stiff body to stand, holding onto the creature’s mane to do so.

_Ride me, it will be far quicker._

For a moment Eskel thought he had misheard the fiend. Then his mind lit up with a childlike excitement. Eskel felt himself grinning as the fiend lowered itself to the ground and Eskel climbed up on it. It was not comfortable. The hump, which Eskel knew should normally be padded with fat, was nothing but spinal ridges. Still, the fiend began to move and even with a limp, it was silent and swift in the woods. No one would ever believe him if he tried to tell them about this contract.

He hadn’t expected this would happen, but now that he was on the back of the fiend, he wondered to himself how the hell he got here.

_I hear them, we draw near, I will have to leave you._

“I may need you - if they come into the cave after me, I need you to keep them from running.” Eskel said, curious as to how the fiend was still speaking to him without the direct eye contact.

 _The magic, it freed my abilities._ The fiend answered his unspoken question. _I make no promises, but I will wait for you until you are out._

It was all Eskel could hope for and he felt like he was finally moving in the right direction.

White honey was helping him feel better as he slipped off the fiend’s back and looked around. He couldn’t see the hunter’s ropes, but he did see things most would miss. There were items hidden in the woods outside the caves and Eskel could hear two sets of heartbeats that were beating rabbit fast. He could hear a mechanism too. One that would be far too quiet for human ears, but his own hearing picked up easily. There was a sound, artificial, of a branch hitting a tree behind him, then he heard a scream in the cave and a familiar scent filled his nose. Panic bit into him.

“Ashleigh!” He charged into the cave, lit by torches. He knew he was heading into a trap, but he wouldn’t let the stupid bartender, no matter how he felt about her, die as bait for him.

“Eskel?! You’re alive?!?” He heard a struggle, but the cave forked. Her smell was coming from both directions. He had to make a coin toss. He hesitated for a moment, then barreled down a corridor and a chamber opened before him.

“Ashleigh? Ashleigh! Where are you?!” He spun around and realized his error as a gate slammed to the ground.

He was looking forward, just as he heard men scream outside of the cave and four large bags hit the ground, sending dust everywhere. He took a breath in and winced. It was a hallucinogenic powder. Powdered arenaria and psilocybe mushrooms with a solid dose of opium. It could have downed an army of men. Hell, it would have downed a witcher, but Eskel had just taken white honey and his system was quickly purging the toxins as soon as they hit. He had never been so thankful to have overdosed on potions in his life.

He stumbled forwards towards an effigy - a horse’s skull with wolf’s teeth embedded in its jaw and crocodile leather strung between the bones. To someone with a weaker constitution, someone who was hallucinating, it would have been the most terrifying thing they had ever seen. But Eskel saw it for what it was. A ruse. He smiled to himself for a moment, before he stumbled and fell on the ground.

“Masks you idiots, otherwise you will die!!” A male’s voice, familiar, reached Eskel’s ears. “Here Ashleigh, let me fix yours. Oh ho ho! We saw him coming and couldn’t believe our eyes! The forest spirit did his work well, yes he did! I thought he was dead! I am so glad we didn’t leave when you wanted to.”

“Shut up Paul and help me get the ropes!” A second male voice broke through the haze of drugs. “My damned leg is killing me and that fire at the Jamulet’s this morning made it worse.”

A fire?

“It’s too bad.” He heard Ashleigh state, her voice muffled through her mask. “The last witcher would have cured Lady Irene. Had the alderman, you, and half the bloody town not fallen ill with the flux last fall, she would have been healthy as a horse.”

“That’s what that idiot girl gets for leaving the soup on the stove and not tending the fire!”

Eskel felt his stomach drop out and he groaned as the pain in his soul turned physical. He had just seen the Jamulet’s before he had moved out against the fiend. He had prepared the soup which had been forgotten. Fuck this town.

“No, that’s what you get for crossing the alderman and spilling our secrets.” The familiar voice said with anger, their feet stomping across the packed dirt of the cave. “You saw how the witcher tore out of here after he was finished there, hell, he put you under his spell! It only broke once the creature had him, I am sure!”

“And what of your own son, Paul?” Eskel tensed as another set of feet came up to him. “Are you hoping his youth makes for a tender meal or three? I met the boy and he seemed fine.”

“Something was wrong with him.”

“He was smart as a whip.” Ashleigh protested.

“The Evils of the world took his voice.” Paul growled. “We must make sure the evil that infested him can’t jump to another. My wife, she is with child once again and I have no want to see that evil being put upon another, I can’t bear it.”

So that was it then. The people were misguided into thinking that anything the slightest bit out of the ordinary was evil. But instead of bashing their brains in, or hanging, or any other manner of ways the uneducated populace executed those who were different, they ate them? They said that the people, the ‘sinners’, turned into pigs and piglets? Eskel’s mouth went dry.

Laughing sickness. Kuru. That’s what these people had. They had ingested the brains of the dead and because they were eating those with disease and mutation, they introduced the sickness to themselves! That’s what he had been smelling! The strange, slightly off sweet scent of flux came from the inability to control one’s bowels as the disease progressed! He understood now!

Eskel had heard enough. Steeling himself, he cast the strongest Yrden he could manage. There was a cry of surprise from Ashleigh and startled yelps from the men as their bodies froze, and the bright purple circle of runes appeared on the cave floor. Eskel stood up slowly, watching them struggle as their eyes widened behind their masks.

“How…How are you…?” The voice was Paul’s, Eskel recognized Paul. He was the man he’d met at the cabin outside of town. The man who’d sent his son to give him food! The man who spoke of a mute son who was to be sacrificed!

“You selfish, ignorant son of a bitch,” Eskel seethed, drawing his skinning dagger from its sheath. “I am not playing your games any longer, human filth. You targeted me the moment you saw me on that path. You knew what I was and you saw an opportunity, and you decided to try and get me to play your village’s stupid games.” He hissed, his scars making the snarl twisting his lips all the more fearsome.

“Y-you strike at evil, witcher.” Paul stuttered, the brawny man seeming small as Eskel stepped into the circle. “You take all the world’s evil into you, your body and soul is full of potent magic! You are evil incarnate, a demon!! We must feast upon evil so it may not feast upon another! Even we have heard the stories of the Butcher of Blaviken, the witcher who lost his mind and slaughtered a market full of people! We would be doing the world a service!!”

“What was in that note?” Eskel growled, ignoring the man’s ranting. “The one you gave me to send to your daughter and her mother.”

“Don’t tell him Paulie! He…”

Eskel backhanded Ashleigh hard enough to cause her to topple over in the Yrden, causing her to sob into the floor as blood poured from her mouth and nose. He looked to Paul, spinning his skinning knife in his hand, and watching with a sick satisfaction as the man’s throat bobbed nervously.

“What was in that note, Paulie?” Eskel purred and pressed the blade to the man’s neck, drawing a fine line of blood.

“A…a list.”

“A lie.” Eskel sniffed the air, baring his teeth. “I can smell lies you know? I can smell them, I can feel how your heart skips beats, I can see the flush of shame which crawls up your neck. You targeted me, what was in that note, what was its purpose? What is my purpose in your game?”

“It marked you.” Eskel’s yellow eyes turned to the other man, who he instantly recognized as the alderman’s husband.

“Ah, you are more willing.” Eskel turned to the man, cast Axii, and watched as the man’s eyes glazed over. “Tell me, what was the purpose of the note?”

“It was to set off a cascade of events that would create a perfect illusion. A mousetrap which would guide you into the perfect position to both test you and allow us to capture you.” The alderman’s husband stated. “The Hollingsworths, they are the gatekeepers to Key’s Crossroads. If they send a traveler with a note, we know they have been chosen. We take one outsider, pre-celebration, to make sure our palates expand. When the note hits town, my wife and the others are alerted, and the town begins its ruse. We test your cleanliness by offering baths. We test your vigor by offering a woman. We test your morals by seeing how you interact with the others. And then we move - directing, talking, and shifting so that the person travels on a path that puts them in the woods in front of the elder god. We offer free shelter, offer free food, offer baths and laundry, and stables. Had you cooperated you would have been treated like a king until tonight...”

“What happens tonight, explain?” Eskel growled and this time the alderman’s husband hesitated, even under the effects of Axii.

“The celebration of the Eternal Fire takes place.” Paul, the tall man, said without the aid of Axii and he was speaking the truth. “It is when the veil between this and the next world is at its peak, nothing can come through. It traps evil here so it can’t escape and we can dispose of it. We set the pyres and we sacrifice those who are evil so that their souls can be taken in, digested, and put to use.”

Eskel’s stomach gave a weak lurch and he was happy he hadn’t eaten since the day previous.

“You mean you kill them and eat them?” Eskel asked, pressing the blade a little further into Paul’s neck.

“The fire cleanses them, so they can confess and if the fire takes them, it means that they have been given to us, and so we eat their flesh, they are cleansed by the fire so that we too can be cleansed. They are monsters.”

“Your son, who looked no older than seven is a monster?” Eskel hissed.

“He is mute, he has fits, and is possessed.” Paul raised his chin which caused Eskel’s blade to dig a neat furrow over his artery. “We do what’s right!!”

“What of the others?! The missing ones I was tracking?” Eskel felt panic welling up inside of him as Paul’s smile turned into a sickening grin.

“Annabelle, she fell pregnant just as she was to marry, with another man’s child. Her babe is evil and they will burn as one.” Paul said. “She has been held for the past month, after she tried to escape, being fed, fattening up her and the fetus so that the fire shall be fed the most concentrated of Evil. Lacy, Deter, and Tobias – the teenagers - had formed a pact. The girl courted them both, a sin to be sure, but the sin of sodomy is much worse. She allowed herself to be sodomized by the boys and the boys sodomized each other.”

The panic Eskel had begun to feel, hit a crescendo.

“When are they to be sacrificed?” He pressed the blade in harder and Paul let off a yelp.

“Enough Eskel! It’s too late!” Ashleigh hissed from the floor and started laughing. “As we speak, they are going through the motions. By the time you arrive it will be too late! You lost witcher, you may as well-”

Eskel’s vision turned red and he was moving almost before he realized it. His steel sword swiped through her neck. She gurgled, her hand moving to her throat, trying to catch the blood, but the Yrden held her in place. The red of her blood, which he should have spilled the night she came to him, made him yearn for more. He could hear Vesemir’s voice, telling him to calm himself, to think rationally. But this was not a place of rationality.

“You cannot escape your fate witcher.” Paul grinned madly. “My son couldn’t escape his and you too will burn. Everyone will burn. The Holy Fire knows-”

Paul’s head flew across the cavern, his blood staining Eskel’s sword and splashing onto his armor.

“Wait!! Wait witcher! You have to understand!” The alderman’s husband wailed. “We are not monsters! we do what the Fire wills of us! We must consume them because they are sinners!”

“You are cannibals.” Eskel hissed, baring his teeth. “You are cannibals and I now know what ails this town. I know what infects the Jamulets, I know what that sour, sickly, angry scent is. You all have laughing sickness, from eating the brains of those who you perch upon your pyres. Kuru is its proper name. You ate those who were in ill health and now you suffer the effects of such.”

“But you!! You are the cure!!” The alderman’s husband insisted, his beady eyes pleading with Eskel to understand. “Your flesh, it will cure us! The Bear that came before you, I was so ill, but now I stand before you….”

Eskel swung his sword and the man’s head rolled from his body, blinking in astonishment as the mouth tried to work to form words, even though it was detached from its body.

“And now you do not.”

His mind was racing. His vision was cloudy. He sniffed the air and with the opium dust, there was nothing he could smell in the cave besides blood and even that was being overtaken. He had to get out. He had to get out and try to rescue those who were going to be cooked.

He should have known that this was what it was. He should have remembered that smell!

He charged out of the cave, just in time to hear the fiend roar. His lungs filled with the sweet, untainted air as a body, twisted and broken, sailed by him.

_I missed one. They were here to gather you, to help the others. The others did not escape and he is well ahead of us. We must go if we are to catch him._

“Let him run and warn them that you are loose.” Eskel grinned and the fiend tilted its head. “I want them scared and clumsy.”

_You are a wise hunter, make the prey fear so they leave their broken behind._

Something deep inside Eskel purred as the fiend lowered itself in front of him yet again.

_Come hunter, let us see what the village who has held me for so many years does to those I send to them._

The ride to the village was swift. Swifter than a horse. What had taken Eskel an hour? Maybe two or more to traverse, was done in less than twenty minutes. They were swift enough that they had nearly overtaken the man who was running to warn the village of the fiend’s escape.

“Wait in the shadows, with the sun setting they will not be able to see you. Crouch low and be wary.” Eskel told the fiend and slid off the creature’s back.

_I shall lay in wait, until you draw first blood, but I shall see them all dead by the night’s end._

Eskel nodded and then swiftly rushed into the town. He could hear the music and celebration, could smell the sickly sweet scent of roasting flesh, human and other. He skirted around the village to see if any others were not in attendance and would warn the alderman of his coming, but not a single person had been through the alleyways in hours.

It was perfect.

He was approaching the square and when he did, he started to have to avoid being seen. Sneaking swiftly and noiselessly, using the glare of the sunset to his advantage, he reached a building that overlooked the village square. He hauled himself up onto the thatched roof and shimmied up it so he could see what was going on. The instant he did, he heard a scream, shrill and fierce. He looked to the fire and saw the little boy who had given him food two days previous. The flames licked around his feet as he screamed and his skin was already starting to blister.

Eskel winced and knew he was too late to save the boy. When the boy grew quiet, several men turned a crank placed beside the fire and the boy’s body went up in the flames. One brave soul, dodging the lick of the flames, split the boy’s stomach open and quickly scooped out the innards, saving the liver, kidneys, and lungs, before tossing the rest of the offal into the fire. The organs were quickly put on smaller spits over another fire which already had other organs roasting over it. It was utterly sickening.

“His spirit has been cleansed, but his flesh is still rife with evil!” Eskel looked to the alderman, who was standing up on a podium. “We will see his flesh atoned!”

“All hail the Fire which cleanses all!” The crowd roared. The body of the boy began to slowly turn on the spit and Eskel felt bile rising in his throat as the scent of the boy and the roasting flesh of the others smelled absolutely delicious. He looked to one of the other spits and he knew it had to be the pregnant woman. They had cleaned her out as well, minus her womb, which was held in her body by oiled twine. The baby had to be near full term, for when they cut open her womb the baby fell out, its skin red and angry. They held the baby over the flames with a pike, burning off the hair and crisping its flesh. When they were done, they placed the babe on a table, and a man with a hammer slammed it down onto the baby’s skull, cracking it open and exposing its brains.

The alderman was grinning. She picked up a slice of bread and went over to the table. She took a spoon and scooped some of the gelatinous matter onto her bread, then sprinkled salt and spices over it. Eskel felt himself grow cold as he watched her take a bite of it and her expression turned blissful.

“He has been cleansed of his mother’s sin!” More cheers went up at the alderman’s declaration and people began to approach the table in some sort of order, doing much the same, while others went to the mother and began to tear strips of meat off her body even as she was turned on the spit.

Eskel watched in horror as a smiling father took a piece of the bread and brains, and handed it to his daughter, who was bouncing and begging for it. She took a bite and cooed, walking off to show it to her mother, who was looking at her fondly while rubbing her own pregnant belly.

What was wrong with these people? Didn’t they realize that any one of them could be on the spit? There was no rhyme or reason to it and Eskel began to look around the crowd, watching as they began singing, dancing, and eating from the corpses which spun in the fire like pigs, their skin glistening and crackling, their faces frozen in muted horror.

These were not fighting men. He saw one or two with swords, and all of the men wore daggers, but none of them had the trained grace of a soldier, of a fighter. But even a witcher could be overwhelmed, and with this many people, it was a high possibility. But Eskel, he wanted blood. They were all monsters, from the smallest babe to the oldest crone. These people who professed to him that they wanted a problem solved had only to want to kill him and put him on the pyre, it made his blood boil.

Perhaps this is what Geralt felt when he had raged down the mountain, tearing after the mages that had sacked the keep.

He looked back to the flames and he saw the others. The teenagers, nearly all bones now, their bodies being removed and placed on plates for the villages to enjoy at their leisure. He saw a man, plump and fat, already half eaten, people picking off the choicest bits as another man sawed through his neck, getting ready to do to him, what they did to the babe.

Then he saw two more young children, not any older than the mute boy, who had just been deemed ready.

Seven, seven corpses cooking.

_The old hen she cackled,_

_She cackled in the lot_

_The next time she cackled,_

_She cackled in the pot._

A scream brought him back to reality as the crowd grew quiet and the alderman moved back to the stage, popping another piece of bread and brains into her mouth. She watched as several men brought a another up to the stage. He had been stripped of his clothing and he was struggling against their hold. Eskel frowned and saw Mrs. Deberaerd, walking beside him, her face full of rage.

“Today we have the-

The man who the fiend had missed, came clamoring up onto the stage, and he began to whisper frantically to the alderman, who’s movements stilled and her face paled. Eskel watched the man as he motioned to the woods and Eskel looked around to see if he could see the fiend. The fiend had placed itself well and was watching the proceedings from the overhang of a hay shed. Eskel wondered if the fiend thought this as horrible as he did, or if it just thought that it was witnessing his captors killing one another.

Motion from the stage brought Eskel’s eyes back to it.

“Today we have one last one, as it seems our god has taken the witcher with him into the abyss,” The Alderman’s face was still pale and drawn, and her voice held a shake to it. There were disappointed groans and several people looked distraught.

Good.

“The last of today, is Andrew Deberard, who’s sins are grave and unforgivable.” As the alderman spoke, the teen was turned around. His face was a mask of horror and he had tears running down his cheeks.

“Please Mother, don’t do this!” He pleaded, but his mother simply crossed her arms and sneered.

“Andrew’s sins are as follows: hubris, he is guilty of this by his selfish actions, his inability to own up to his mistakes, and his putting himself and his prideful wants above the needs of the village.”

“I swear, all I did was talk to them! I wasn’t going to leave Mama, I swear!” The young man howled.

“You spoke to the Bear witcher, were pleading with him to take you with him!” The alderman snarled. “You refused to acknowledge this, even though there were eyewitnesses! We were willing to let it slide until you approached the hunter and asked him to take you with him and leave you in the woods! You stole money from your mother’s savings to try and bribe him, and it’s only his daftness that prevented it. And then, you spoke to the Wolf witcher, befouling and befuddling him, ruining our plans to rid the world of the Witcher’s evil, lustful, and murderous ways. You spoke to him and now those that are ill will die because of your selfish actions!”

The boy looked around as people began to spit and curse at him.

“His next sin is envy!” The alderman turned to the crowd. “This boy envied the hunter’s job so badly, he nearly drove him from the town! He tried to get the hunter to teach him, to take him under his wing, but his place was not to be that, but to be a sheep farmer so his mother could continue to support the town with her weavings.”

“The hunter is daft! Wrong in the head!” The boy cried out. “One of these days he will wander off his rope path and we will never see him again! What then?! We were starved before he came here, before the king’s men came here, don’t you see it?! No one here knows how to hunt! Our village was dying!”

“And it is not your place to decide when and if we need someone to take up the mantle of hunter.” The alderman sneered. “It was not your place.”

The crowd shouted its agreement and the boy sobbed.

“His next sin, tying in with the last, is wrath.” The alderman scowled, eyes full of distain. “When Boris was chosen to take up the mantle of apprentice hunter, he saw to it that the man was drugged, and he wound up addling the hunter, who now seeks a creature who doesn’t exist. Because of his addlement, Boris now is afraid of the woods and not fit to be a hunter.”

“I didn’t drug him! The idiot was hungry and we were hunting, he ate the mushrooms without knowing what they were!”

“He admits to it then!” The crowd roared and Eskel felt himself rising up.

“His next his sloth,” The alderman looked to Mrs. Deberard. “You often shirked your duties to your mother, you have been found napping throughout the village, when you should be doing work. You have been found playing with the children, when you are far too old for that nonsense. You have, as of recently, shirked your duties to your mother by greeting the witcher and trying to run away from repairing the roost of your family home.”

“He was lost…” The boy hung his head.

“And it was not your duty to see to him now was it?” The alderman tutted.

“Your next sin is greed,” The alderman shook her head. “You approached the Jamulet household, after the witcher visited, and insisted on them giving you her husband’s sword. When they didn’t move to give you it, for it was a precious heirloom, you stole it.”

“Because you are all mad!” The boy cried out, his struggling renewed. “This is madness! Killing innocent children, pregnant women and for what!? For sins? No one here is without them!”

“The next is gluttony!” The alderman hissed.

“For what?” The boy roared. “She starved me, said if I got fat, I would never find a wife! Yet look at her, look at my mother! If anyone is a glutton here, it is her! She would eat a king’s meal, while I subsisted on boiled groats and occasionally an egg. She starved us, all of us, and you blame me for getting sick of it and cooking myself a proper meal?!”

“You stole from the village, you stole eggs that would go to those who cannot cook for themselves, those too old to be able to tend to fires.” The alderman cried out. “You see! Gluttony!”

The crowd roared in agreement and Eskel moved into a crouch on the rooftop, readying himself to pounce.

“His last and final sin is the most grievous!” The alderman shouted and the crowd hissed. “Lust, for it is he that got Janus pregnant! He had an affair with a woman set to be married mere months before it took place. He took her virginity and he placed within her the seed of Evil! Not only did he get her pregnant, but it has been found out that he also lusted after others! His peers! Girls and boys all, with no discretion, with no remorse!”

“They consented!” The boy sobbed. “They wanted to know what it was like, what to expect in their marriage beds.”

“And the sodomy?” The alderman hissed. “The tempting, the coercion? What man would want to plough another man?! What man would enjoy being ploughed in the dirtiest of places? You twisted them, groomed them…”

The boy only hung his head and sobbed.

Eskel had enough.

He launched himself from the rooftop and the crowd parted in fear as he used his mutations to project malice. The instant he did, the fiend, noticing his decent, began to stalk around the back side of the distracted crowd.

“Alderman,” Eskel’s voice was cold, a growl in his throat. “I have found the monster which haunts this place.”

“Witcher!” The alderman faltered, taking a step back. “We thought you dead!!”

“You thought wrong.” Eskel hissed. “Let him go.”

“I can’t do that, he must be…”

“This is not me asking. You will let him go. Now.” The alderman hesitated and then nodded, swallowing thickly. The crowd began to murmur as the bonds around the boy’s legs and arms were cut, soon as he was freed, he came dashing towards Eskel. Eskel looked to the boy, who was shivering despite the heat of the summer air.

“When I move, run, hide in your mother’s house, and do not come out until I come get you.” Eskel hissed softly and the boy nodded sharply.

“Ah and look, the witcher too wishes to partake in sodomy!” The alderman sneered and the crowd began to move closer, to get ready to box Eskel and the boy in. Eskel sheathed his sword and cracked his knuckles and the alderman’s brows raised high. “Are you going to surrender then? Take the boy’s place?”

“No.” Eskel grinned. “I am going to kill you, all of you.”

He began to stalk forward slowly and the boy behind him began to take small steps back.

“Every man, woman, and child, for I will not see this madness spread. The sickness you carry, it comes from eating the flesh of the dead, eating their brains. I can smell it on the babe you just ate, the sickness, which infects you all, makes you laugh, makes you weak.”

“Impossible…” The alderman looked around and someone stumbled up onto the stage, drunk and cackling.

“I told you!” The man crowed, a half empty vodka bottle in his hand. “You didn’t listen to me, oh no, not the drunk doctor, I told you and yet you still did it.”

The alderman looked around and some people had begun to shift, confusion gracing their features.

The distraction was all Eskel needed.

Gathering magic to him, the magic he housed which was far beyond the witchers’ simple signs, he called forth fire and wind into his fingertips, calling the sign of Igni and Aard.

The Aard burst from his fingers and one side of the crowd was knocked down, the first several rows of them crushed by the sheer force of the magic, the rest injured or incapacitated. Igni burst from his other hand and the fire climbed over them, setting them aflame, and in their panic, they began to run to their loved ones and set them aflame as well.

Eskel grinned as the villagers attempted to recover, the doctor falling off the stage and into one of the pyres, screaming as he tried to lift himself from the burning wood that collapsed around him. Eskel drew his steel sword as men tried to surround the stage to protect the alderman.

Eskel saw red and charged.

The fiend roared and its magic overtook the town square.

Andrew ran and Eskel hoped, dearly, even as his steel sword met its first mark, that the boy would live.

“THE GOD! HE IS HERE!!”

Shouts, screams, and chaos overfilled the square as people began to stampede in panic. Eskel moved, cutting through body after body. His mind calm with the razor edge focus of killing monsters. They tried to surround him, to stop him, but they couldn’t. When they realized the witcher was too strong for them, they attempted to run, but the fiend would take them, toss them, and crush them underfoot.

He could see the small children being trampled in the crowds, as mothers with the grease of the people murdered and cooked on the spits still on their chins, cried out in horror. Eskel’s sword met them too. It met them and he laughed. His laugh echoed as he cut through the people running from him, their backs turned, panicked and alone in this moment of terror. Giving them the exact feeling of their victims.

It was glorious and the more Eskel killed, the more he wanted to kill.

Blood flooded over him, refuse from spilled innards was splattered across his armor. The smell of death and the dying filled his nose, and it was beautiful.

When he got to Mrs. Dondelinger, who was clinging to her husband, who in turn was clinging to a flimsy looking woman, he felt nothing. He thought he would feel remorse, but she too had her own part to play, she too had the meat of the children in her innards. So she too deserved to die. He cut through her and she fell over, screaming, and bleeding. Then he cut into her husband, who hadn’t seen her worth, and then into the other woman, who had tempted her husband away.

He then found the baker, cradling his daughter, who had been trampled to death, one of her eyes hanging from its socket, her face crushed, and her body twisted. He killed him for the abuse of his son, which had killed his son in turn. He killed him for poisoning his daughter, for making her hateful.

For a moment he looked to the fiend, it was covered in blood, and was braying as it swiped and crushed and took after those who attempted to leave the square. Eskel laughed and he lunged back into the quickly thinning crowd.

The alderman was frozen on the stage, her eyes wide in horror, and her children clinging to her skirts, wailing. He kept going, kept killing, kept killing monsters until his strength was nearly done. And it was only then that he turned back to the stage. The last of the ones left alive were injured and groaning. The fiend, noticing Eskel’s approach to the stage, moved to his side.

 _  
YOU!!  
_  
The fiend’s roar set the children the alderman was shielding herself with to screaming.   
  
_It was you, your mother, and your mother’s mother who kept me trapped in that ruin!_

“You were a god! We fed you… we…”

 _You captured me to live out your sick hunter’s game._ The fiend snarled, baring jagged, broken teeth. _What honor is there in one who does not hunt? What honor is there in one who does not run down those who have wronged you?_

The fiend snorted, its eyes glowing, and Eksel felt the pulse of magic.

 _You sicken me. Using your kits as a shield._ _Hunter, Witcher, I will not sully myself with her death for she deserves far more._

Eskel grinned and laughed.

“She does.” He growled, his feral snarl making the children cringe against her.

“You can’t!! You won’t!”

“I can and I will.” Eskel reached for the first child, who started screaming, and threw him deep into one of the pyre’s flames.

“NO STOP!”

Eskel only laughed as he lobbed another, and another into the fire. Their shrill screams soothed the monster within him, making him purr in satisfaction as horror flooded the alderman.

The last child, the youngest, had fainted, and when he moved to picked her up, the alderman clung to her.

“PLEASE! THEY HAVE DONE NOTHING!” She howled.

“Isn’t just existing a reason for you to kill them?” Eskel asked, snatching the last child from her grasp, and chucking her into the flames. The other children had attempted to crawl out of the fire, to escape the flames, but were now beginning to arch, the flesh on their limbs beginning to char and draw up as they were roasted alive.

The alderman sobbed and collapsed onto the ground.

“Kill me, please… I have nothing…” She sobbed brokenly.

“In due time.” Eskel purred and then grabbed her. He tore her dress from her and then her braies. She sobbed and tried to struggle, but in his fierce grip she was powerless. He grabbed the ropes that had been cut from Andrew and shoved her against the post of the one unlit pyre. She tried to escape, but Eskel was swifter, and he quickly tied her to the post.

She struggled, howling with a mix of grief and terror as Eskel drew out his dagger and grinned.

“And now you will suffer, you will suffer as all the others have suffered at your hands.”

“PLEASE NO, BY THE FLAMES, SOMEONE SAVE ME PLEASE!!” She screamed, but there was no one left who could help her.

He pressed the dagger between her breasts and pulled down, her shrill cry and the pungent scent of fresh urine and feces reaching his nose. He laughed as he dragged it down her stomach, over and over until her guts were exposed. He was careful and she was barely bleeding. She was incoherent, screaming for mercy she wouldn’t get, but alive…. and that’s all Eskel could ask for. He then moved the post she was bound to, setting it on a waiting spit and her guts began to spill out, bloated intestines unraveling into the waiting wood like oiled rope.

Then he Axiied her. He wanted her calm, he wanted to stave off the shock her pained body was attempting to fall into and didn’t want her to die prematurely. No. Oh no, she and Eskel were going to see this through to the very end.

“Let’s see how you like being roasted.” He laughed again and snapped his fingers.

The wood burst into flame and even though she was trapped under the influence of the Axii, she screamed as the flames rose to lick at her flesh. Eskel began to slowly rotate the spit, watching as her guts fell out, and then began to wind around her body, while she writhed against her bonds.

With each turn on the spit, her cries grew weaker, and Eskel felt himself start to purr as the feeling of fair justice being done filled him, and made him dizzy with its own strange euphoria. He watched as her skin began to blister and her intestines began popping. He watched as the skin pulled away from itself, and began to char. Her guts fell into the fire, and she stilled, no longer able to breathe. He listened as she was now silenced and thought the sound of her heart stilling was the most glorious sound he would ever hear.

When that was done, Eskel kicked the spit and watched as her body fell into the flames amongst her children, who’s bodies had drawn up as if in prayer.

Justice.

When he turned around the fiend was there, watching with blue glowing eyes.

_You have hunted, fair and true. I thank you brave hunter, for my life, for my freedom, for my revenge._

“Life is a strange thing,” Eskel looked to the fiend. “It is full of grey areas, it is never black and white. There is never a true evil or a true good.”

The fiend looked at him and Eskel approached it.

“Thank you for everything.” He said and the fiend closed its eyes, bowing its head.

It was the only opening he needed.

In an instant, his silver sword sliced into the fiend’s neck and its eyes flew open, betrayal crossing its features.

_W-why… I…_

“I thank you for everything, but you still had a part to play in this,” Eskel wrenched his sword free as the fiend collapsed whining in betrayal as the relic oil began to poison its body. It grasped at him, reaching for him, but Eskel merely looked down on it, his mind quiet.

_I don’t understand…_

“I have learned my lesson from this.” Eskel reached down and stroked the fiend’s nose. “I will never suffer monsters.”

He plunged his sword into the fiend’s third eye and felt it crack through its skull into its brain.

Three days later

Eskel, Daisy, and Andrew on his new horse Laddy, came up from the path that led to Key’s Crossroads. They were silent and still, and the townspeople, from the same no name town that Eskel had taken the contract from, were silent as he and the boy entered it. Fear and confusion graced their features as Eskel pulled his horse up to the notice board.

The same old woman from before was eyeing him critically as he scanned the board for work. When he found there was none, he sighed.

“I am surprised to see you.” The woman said, setting down her sewing. “Truth be told, we all are.”

“You can tell the king it is safe to hunt burls in that town, the monster has been delt with and the townspeople will pose no more problem for those that wish to travel through it.” Eskel stated, his voice flat.

“You can’t mean…” The woman stood up. “He has done it! He has freed the town! We may pass once again!”

The other people in the village looked to Eskel as he turned his horse and Andrew followed him. Once they were out of the town and into the sunny fields and lowlands, which were dotted by similar small villages, Andrew spoke up.

“I want to be a witcher.” He said and Eskel raised a brow.

“Be careful, your lust and your greed will get the better of you.” Eskel smiled and Andrew laughed.

“I am also going to change my name.” The teenager shifted in his saddle, still not quite used to riding.

“Oh?” Eskel asked.

“Yeah, think I am going to be Leo from here on out.” The teen said and Eskel nodded.

“Well Leo, you have much coin and much life ahead of you.” Eskel stated. “Live your life as you please for a little, and if in a few years you still wish to become a witcher, then find the way to our keep.”

“Find the… how? Where is it?” Leo, asked, his eyes widening.

“Kaedwen, in the blue mountains.” Eskel smiled.

“Kaedwen…” The boy looked flummoxed for a moment, then his expression solidified into determination. “I will see you there Eskel, you can be sure of it.”

They parted ways, with Eskel heading east, and Leo going who knows where.

It was only once the boy was free of him, that Eskel was able to process what he had done.

In an instant he was off his horse and heaving into a set of mulberry bushes. He had left no survivors. He had killed them to a man, going through after he had killed the fiend and running his sword through every man, woman, and child left alive.

There were no witnesses except Leo and Leo wasn’t going to say a thing.

He shuddered as he realized what he had done and how he had gotten away with it. Geralt had killed eight people in Blavikin, Eskel had just killed hundreds. Hundreds and burned the bodies so nothing was left but ash.

He was ill because it had felt right, felt justified. He was a monster. He was a monster and he loved being a monster, and something stole through him, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Bravery. It was an ill earned bravado, but it was there. He had faced one of his singular worst fears, and he had slaughtered it to a man.

Geralt would be vilified, but Eskel, good ol’ sturdy, steady Eskel would go on, and everything would be just as it was.

Life was strange.

He hopped back up onto his horse, feeling energized and light. He began to hum and then he began to sing.

_The old hen she cackled,_

_She cackled in the lot_

_The next time she cackled,_

_She cackled in the pot._

_The old hen she cackled._

_She cackled and she cooed._

_The next time she cackled,_

_The rooster cackled, too._

_The old hen she cackled,_

_She cackled in the stable._

_The next time she cackled,_

_She cackled on the table._

_The old hen she cackled,_

_The rooster laid an egg_

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ For those of you interested in hearing the song. It's rather lively hahahahah ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MmeiL6fotkk)
> 
> I look forward to your comments!!! lemme know what you think!


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